


Jimjeran Book 2: Island Hopper

by BetweenScenes



Series: Jimjeran [2]
Category: Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: Alternate Universe, BetweenScenesWriter, Canon Divergence, F/M, Marshall Islands
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-28
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-03-25 07:03:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 27
Words: 80,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13828995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BetweenScenes/pseuds/BetweenScenes
Summary: Newly married Claire and Jamie settle into married life, deal with the challenges of separation, and visit Claire's family on Guam for Christmas.





	1. Lukkuun Lakatu (Very Handsome)

     Iiokwe, Miss Peachay!” Peeking from behind her mother’s skirts, Lolly held her little brother’s hand.

     “Look at you,” I gushed to her little brother, resting on his mama’s hip.  “Kwo lukkuun ļakatu,” I said.  Lolly giggled, though I couldn’t tell you if it was because of my horrible pronunciation or because Ļakatu, besides meaning “handsome,” was also her brother’s name.

     Lakatu’s dark eyes were wide and worried, his forehead wrinkled.  He had some reason to be concerned; after all, I’d already caused him pain when I treated the boil on his head at his home, followed by another painful mini-surgery in the clinic.  He couldn’t know this was just a follow up to make sure the infection was gone.

     Ļakatu’s lower lip started to quiver, and he buried his face in his mother’s ample bosom.

     “Don’t cry,” I said in Majel. “It’s okay.”

     Lolly stood at the side of the exam table, her chin resting on her hands. She watched, wide-eyed, as I gently removed the bandages from Lakatu’s forehead.  It didn’t matter how calmly I talked to him, or how gently I touched him. Lakatu was terrified of me.

     But Lolly was fascinated. “ _Ta eo_?” she asked.   _What is that?_

     Lolly questioned me repeatedly, as she pointed in turn to each item on my tray, trying to copy the words I said.  She watched as I checked the area around the healing boil to see if the tissue was still inflamed.  To my relief, it looked  _much_  better; all I had to do was clean the area, reapply ointment and bandages, and then give Ļakatu and Lolly each a gum drop from my treat bowl.

     I had taken Laura’s advice about bribery, and my mom had happily shopped for simple treats at the Air Force commissary and mailed them to me from Guam, so I could at least help the local toddlers and preschoolers not cower in fear whenever they saw me.

     No one was waiting outside the clinic when I was done, so I wandered around our property.

     Since our wedding exactly two weeks ago, Jamie and I had worked to complete a variety of projects around the clinic property. My little garden was growing amazingly well, with green leaves and straight stalks on the cucumber, tomato, and pepper plants.  The squash vines on the two hills were proliferating as well.

     We had worked to rake and smooth the gravel in the front yard of the clinic, but we’d also cleared some spots under the clinic windows as flower beds. One afternoon Jamie and I had gone on a hunt through the palm forest on the ocean side and found several lovely flowering bushes, which we had carefully dug up, placed in our wheelbarrow, and rolled back to the clinic to replant them in the beds.

     “What’s you name? what’s you name? what’s you name?” As I sat down on the bench in front of the clinic, rapid-fire questions announced that my frequent visitor Katie was back. Katie would meander by almost daily, peeking through the clinic windows if I was inside, sitting and visiting if I had no patients, and repeatedly asking me the one English question she knew.

     “What’s you name?” she asked again.

     “You know my name, silly-billy,” I said. “ _Etam in_ Claire Fraser.”

     “ _Ejjab_ ,” she disagreed with me, shaking her head. “You name Miss  _Peachay_.”

     Though that might be what the residents of the little atoll of Arno called me, I was no longer Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp—“Miss Peachay.”

     The reason for my name change was currently striding down the road toward me, heading home after his day of teaching at the Peace Corps school.  Surrounded by a herd of enthusiastic children, just as he had been the day I met him, James Alexander Malcolm MacKenzie Fraser was a striking contrast to the brown-skinned, black-haired island children who swarmed around him. He was tan, much more so than me. His hair, though still furiously red and ridiculously curly, was currently at a semi-short length.  As much as I had loved running my fingers through his long curls, when we’d discovered that he had gotten lice because of his students’ constant affection towards him, a haircut was in order.  I’d been terrified when Jamie handed me the scissors, but it’s not like there was a huge variety of hair salons down the road from us.

     Arno is an outer island in the eastern, or Ratak, chain of tiny atolls that make up the Marshall Islands. As an outer island it has no running water, sewer, or electricity.  Advances in solar power have helped slightly, but since the only sources of income on the island are harvesting and smoking coconuts for copra and making handicrafts for tourists to buy, few residents have the money to upgrade their systems.

     The two of us had met not even six weeks before when I arrived on the island to serve as a nurse practitioner, embarking on a completely unexpected friendship which culminated in a rapid marriage; tested not only by an eventful honeymoon but also the appearance of my former fiancé, Frank.

     When given the choice between Frank and Jamie, I had chosen Jamie.  It wasn’t that I could predict what the future would hold for us, but I had never felt so equally matched with another person, whose sense of humor, affectionate nature, honesty, and desire for physical and emotional intimacy were so in sync with mine that for the first time in my life I thought I might actually believe in soul mates.

     I wolf-whistled.  “La-ka-tuuu,” I catcalled, as Jamie crunched across the gravel in his flip-flops.  Next to me Katie giggled and pretended to whistle, perfectly mimicking my lustful tone.  Jamie grinned at her, shook his head at me with a wry smile, and sat down between us on the bench, putting his arm around me.

     “Ye are a perfectly awful example of respectful femininity, Ripālle,” Jamie said, surreptitiously kissing me on the cheek.

     “You know you love it,” I teased back, settling into his comfortable embrace.

 

 

 

 

     As Jamie and I sat on the bench with Katie, I could see the pick-up truck coming up the road toward us.  With only a few vehicles on the island, the truck got a lot of use, whether as the local taxi, a moving van, or the pony express when it brought us mail on Mondays. This wasn’t a Monday, so I assumed it was traveling for one of the other purposes.

     However, as it reached the clinic, it slowed down and then came to a stop.  In the bed of the truck I could see three large cardboard boxes. I looked at Jamie to see if the shipment was his doing or if he expected anything, but he didn’t seem to have any knowledge of a shipment coming our way. I was even more surprised when the driver of the truck hopped out and one by one brought all three boxes out of the pickup.

     I peered at the label of one of them and saw the words “Mercy Medical.” “That’s my clinic!” I exclaimed.

     The boxes weren’t terribly heavy, so Jamie and I carried them into our house, Katie following us curiously. I opened the one that said “one of three” on top and found inside a short note from Joe.

 

>   _Miss B_
> 
> _We were inspired after hearing about the challenges children are having with boils there and took up a collection. We even hit up the drug reps that showed up this month.  I was tasked with getting the supplies for some “boil prevention” kits for you to give to families with children. I enjoyed buying mosquito nets, soap, wash cloths, and antiseptic.  I’ve even enclosed some reels of cord, so the nets are easier to hang._
> 
> _The staff love hearing about how things are going.  They’d love to see pictures, too!  Be sure to let us know if there are any other needs you have.  We don’t often realize how lucky we are and how easy it is to improve someone else’s health._
> 
> _And I’m not yelling at you at all.   There was so much sparkle in this last letter, I could have read it in the dark! Jamie sounds like a good man, young as he may be.  And the fact that he’s hot and muscular is doubly good for you, Miss Thang._
> 
> _Joe_

     Joe had scrawled a goofy smiley face, and then signed the note.

     Jamie had opened the tops of the other two boxes. “Look, Claire,” he exclaimed, gesturing for me to come over.  “Can you even imagine how many boils these simple items will prevent?” One box was packed with row after row of tightly folded mosquito nets, and the other had countless bars of soap and antiseptic bottles.

     It was startling how much Joe had to pay for postage, but since items weren’t readily available on Arno, and because it made the clinic staff happy, there was little to regret.

     “Rupert and Angus are coming over tonight, right?” I asked.  “Maybe we need to start making up some kits instead of playing games.”

     “Aye,” Jamie responded.  “Might as well put those two slackers to work instead of just feeding them and providing amusement.”

     He stepped into the kitchen and started getting out the flour and bowl to make pizza crust.

     “Are ye sure we can keep feeding them?” he asked curiously.  I looked up from looking through the third box, where I’d found stacks of soft washcloths and towels, as well as another stack of flannel baby blankets. “I ken we’re going to be able to go shopping for groceries on Majuro when we get back from Guam, but we shouldna be letting them mooch without paying for supplies…”

     “I like being generous, babe,” I responded, shrugging my shoulders.  “And do the islanders ever ask us to pay them back for all the food they give us?”

     Jamie looked at me sheepishly.  “Hmm. Think I may have to stop calling ye Ri-pālle, hen.  Now I’m the selfish one.”

     He got an odd look in his eyes.  “What you just said, though.  That we don’t pay the islanders back.  That’s right, isn’t it?  We have Angus and Rupert over nearly every week.  We should start inviting the locals over, too.  How many times have they fed us, after all?”

     “Invite them over for supper?  Wouldn’t they hate our food?” I asked.

     “No need to make anything strange,” Jamie grinned.  “We make fish and rice here as well as the next cooking shack.”

     I pointed to the king-sized bed at the center of the back wall, under the window that currently was showing a sunny view of the iar.  “Will it seem like we are being ostentatious to have them in our house?” I asked.  “Some of them sleep on mats on the floor.”

     “Not all of them do,” said Jamie.  “Plenty of them have been to Majuro.  Others have family in Hawaii or the United States.  Would it be awful to let them see our home?”

     I looked around our small space.  It was very ironic to me that when I’d first come into this apartment, I had thought it was like going to camp.  Bare wood floor, walls with exposed frames and no dry-wall, open rafters, cabinets that were open air, a closet that was just a shelf with a bar under it.

     Looking at the closet, I smiled.  Life had been such a whirlwind that sometimes it was hard to imagine that Jamie and I really had only known each other such a short time.

     “Do you remember the morning when you were jogging and I screamed?” I said.  Jamie grinned back at me.

     “How could I forget?” he said.  “You’re as flushed right now as you were that morning.”

     “Do you know what you interrupted me doing?” I asked him.

     He furrowed his brow and frowned.  “I interrupted you?”

     “When you came back.  You left, and a few minutes later you came back. To invite me to Samhain,” I said.

     “Were you changin’?” he asked.

     I started to feel like I didn’t want to confess anything to him. “Never mind,” I said breezily.  “It doesn’t matter.  So, I’m going to lay this stuff out on our bed so we can easily make up bundles.”

     When I looked back at Jamie he was staring at me, eyes narrowed and lips pursed. “Now ye must tell me, Claire.  What were ye doing that I interrupted?”

     I shook my head.  “It was nothing.  Don’t worry about it.”

     Jamie crossed his arms over his chest, stood up to his full height, and with eyebrows raised, gave me his best teacher ‘are you going to tell me the truth or are there going to have to be consequences’ look.

     I shook my head and turned back to the task at the bed.

     “Were you… touching yourself, then?” he asked, hesitant, curious, and amused.

     I felt hugely embarrassed now.  I wasn’t sure why.

     I heard him approaching me from behind, and then felt his arms go around my midsection.

     “Ri-palle,” he whispered in my ear.  “You _were_ lusting after me that morning, weren’t ye?”

     “Yes,” I squeaked, then giggled as he nipped under my ear.

     He laughed, held me a little bit longer, and then headed back to the kitchen. “We can discuss this more later, wee one.  For now, I’ve got a job to finish and guests to prepare for.”

     For the next hour until our guests arrived, I kept glancing up to see Jamie gazing at me with a smile.  When he caught my eye he would shake his head and look away, unable to keep the grin from his face.

 

     “Are ye truly going to make me work after you filled my belly with pizza goodness?” groaned Rupert.  He looked down and patted his belly lovingly.

     “We are putting together kits to give to young families,” Jamie said.  “These simple things will prevent mosquito bites, and thus cut down on the number of boils and infections the children get.”

     “Well, if ye put it that way,” Rupert grumbled begrudgingly.  “But I dinna care for the way you’ve set this up, Claire.”

     “What do you mean?” I asked.  On the bed I had the mosquito netting in one neat pile followed by the towels and washcloths, the soap and antiseptic, and ending with the reel of rope Joe had included to provide for tying the mosquito netting up to the ceiling above the place the baby slept.

     “I see it too,” said Angus.  “You want us each to travel around your bed, each making a packet as we go.”

     “Won’t that work?” I asked.

     “Young lass,” said Rupert, “Ye of the land that gave the world Henry Ford and his Model T, as well as the first assembly lines…” he nodded proudly at me as I looked at him in surprise.  “Ye didna think we Scottish children neglected to learn about the United States as we traveled through school, did you?”

     “Work smarter, not harder,” said Angus, tapping his forehead with a finger. “Assembly line, lass.”

     The boys soon had us each established at our own station.  Rupert was unfolding each mosquito netting square twice so that it was large enough to create the packet.  He handed those on, and Angus put on a towel and two washcloths.  I added the antiseptic and soap, then gathered up the edges of the mosquito netting.  While we had been setting up, Jamie had used his fishing knife to cut lengths of rope and used a lighter to melt the ends to secure them.  Once the edges of the mosquito netting were gathered up, Jamie took the doubled rope and tied it around the gathered netting, ending with a rather attractive bow for such large hands.

     We soon had a good rhythm going, and we would stop every once in a while to get new supplies from the boxes and pack the finished kits into one of the boxes we’d emptied first.

     “Story time,” said Angus.  “My students wore me out today, and this tedious task is likely to kill me.”

     “What shall we tell?” I asked.

     “First kiss,” said Rupert.

     “You first,” I teased, holding the netting while Jamie maneuvered around my arms and hand to tie the rope.

     “Of course,” Rupert responded.  “For me, I was a dashing young fourteen-year-old.  The lass was Mary Katherine MacKenzie.  The ripe age of twelve.  She was, of course, quite mature for her age,” he explained, using his hands to show us through gestures exactly what he meant by ‘mature.’

     “Where did it occur?” I asked.

     “Where did it NOT occur, more like,” Rupert bragged.  “We kissed every chance we got.  Before school, after mass. On the path to her house, in the shed at mine.”

     “Did she let ye touch her bubbies?” Angus asked greedily.

     “A gentleman never kisses and tell,” Rupert grinned, nodding ‘yes’ very clearly as he contradicted his own words.

     “Okay, now you, Angus,” I directed.  He looked thoughtful.  

     “Well,” he said, “There was my mum, and my sister, and my Auntie Jean, and my Uncle Henry.”  The rest of us groaned, protesting.  

     “No,” insisted Jamie.  “First real kiss.  Sisters and cousins don’t count.”

     “Well, then, I have nothing,” Angus joked.  Finally we pried it out of him that his first kiss was with a girl he only knew for a week at sleep-away camp.  

     “Jamie?” Angus said, as we all turned towards him.  He pretended to be fascinated by the rope in his hands, giving it his full attention as he used his knife to cut it to the correct length.

     “Yes, Jamie,” said Rupert.  “Time to spill it.”

     “First kiss that _mattered_ …” Jamie said, looking at me with that adorable twinkle in his eye. “Happened when I was twenty-two.  I was on Majuro, and my uncle was in the next room.”

     I leaned over and kissed him, and he responded by squeezing me with the arm that was _not_ currently holding a knife.

     “That’s cheating,” groaned Rupert.

     Angus added indignantly, “Ye persist in disgusting us with your affection every single time we come to your house!”

     I turned to them and rolled my eyes.  “Okay, we’ve heard this before.  We’re not likely to stop being affectionate with each other. So either stop coming to our house or get over it!”

     Rupert grinned sheepishly.  “We arena trying to overreact, lass.  But truly, it just reminds us how randy we are and how unlikely we are to be able to do anything about it.  So if you could occasionally have pity on us and not remind us that after we leave your house you’re quite likely to do the rumpy-pumpy, that’d be kind of you.”

     “Really?” I said.  “The _rumpy-pumpy_?  All right, Rupert, out of respect for you, I’ll attempt to keep our affection to a minimum.”

     “First kiss, Claire,” interrupted Jamie.  “And you have to tell us the real one.”

     “Well,” I said, climbing on the bed and sitting cross-legged, “My first kiss I was at the ripe old age of… seven.”

     “Seven!” exclaimed Angus.  “I kent ye were a floozy, but I didna realize how early it started.”  Jamie gave him a dangerously fierce glare, but I could tell it was all meant in fun.

     “What did you do to lead the lad on, lassie?” Rupert asked.

     “Well, I had my hair in ponytails that day.” The boys looked at me slightly blankly, so I paused, split my locks down the center and pulled them to the sides in two handfuls above my ears.  “And I was adorable,” I bragged, swishing my head back and forth and making the curls bounce.  “I went out in the hallway to finish a project the teacher gave me, and I got this strange sense that there was someone behind me.”

     “Who was it?” Jamie asked warily.

     “Oh, it was Jacob Turner,” I said.  “A _first_ grader.”

     “Robbing the cradle, even back then,” teased Rupert.

     I shook my head at Rupert and finished my story.  “Jake was planning on kissing the back of my head or something, but I sensed his presence right when he was going for it.  So I whirled around and he kissed me on the corner of my lips.  I was _disgusted_!”

     After the chuckles subsided, I turned back to Jamie.  “No cheating, babe.  First kiss.”

     “I was a bit of a prat in primary as well as secondary school,” said Jamie.  “So I didna have many chances for that.  I had a girlfriend when I was fourteen, but never got up the nerve to try anything wi’ her, and then we broke up. I didna date again until I was sixteen.”

     Angus was staring at Jamie.  “It wasn’t?” His face asked a question.

     “ _Laoghaire_ ,” finished Rupert.  I could tell by the blush on Jamie’s cheeks and the combination of surprise and horror on Rupert & Angus’s faces that there would be many more stories about this girl to hear in the future.

     After Rupert and Angus had left and we’d washed the dishes, I grinned at my husband. “Fancy some rumpy-pumpy?” I asked Jamie.

     “I’m thinking that you started a story earlier that I’d like to have you finish. I’m definitely interested in hearing about what I interrupted that day I helped rescue you from the spider,” Jamie responded.

     “Well….” I began with a grin, well aware that _both_ of us were probably going to get what we were hoping for.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, the first kiss story is mine. I'm not always good at coming up with minutia, so I fall back on the familiar.
> 
> The other half of that story is pretty funny. So first kiss happened in Idaho. My family moved around after that...California, back to another city in Idaho, then out to Guam.
> 
> Nine years later I'm a 16 year old starting my third year of high school. My parents were still on Guam, but I'd come back to Washington state for boarding school. First high school activity was a hand shake where we met all the other students.
> 
> Halfway through, I shook hands with a tall guy with dark brown hair. His name was familiar, but I couldn't place it.
> 
> That night I was in my dorm room when I suddenly realized...that was him--the first little boy who ever kissed me!
> 
> And apparently, the same night, he and his roommate had turned out the lights when Chris sat up in bed with a start...
> 
> "That's the first girl I ever kissed!"


	2. Snorkelbathing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _What do you do when you can't seem to get rid of your farmers' tan?_

_What do you do when you can't seem to get rid of your farmers' tan?_

* * *

**[Click Here to Hop to the Table of Contents on Tumblr](https://betweensceneswriter.tumblr.com/post/168743332317/jimjeran-outlander-au-fanfic-table-of-contents)**

**[Or Read the Entire Work on Archive of Our Own](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12878091/chapters/29417268) **

* * *

     “Ugh,” I groaned, looking at myself in the mirror.  “We’re heading to Guam for Christmas, a place people actually wear swim suits to the beach, and I’ve got the farmiest farmers’ tan I’ve ever seen!”

     I hadn’t realized, when I joined the Peace Corps and chose to go to Arno, that decency standards on this particular island would mean I could _never_ sunbathe.

     Of course Jamie grinned at me, coming up behind me.  “I quite like your farmers’ tan, Ri-pālle.  It’s like a line of demarcation; the border of a country,” he said, softly tracing the tan lines on my upper arms, the back of my neck, and then across my breasts. “These lines say, ‘Beyond here, this territory belong to Jamie Fraser and no one else.’”

     He stood behind me, reaching his hands around my rib cage to cup my breasts, and kissing me firmly on the shoulder.

     You’re a goober,” I said, “And that’s half the reason I love you.  Well?  Are you going to spend some time exploring your territory?”  I raised my eyebrows at him and reached up to unhook my bra.

     Yes,” he said, picking me up and carrying me to our bed.  “Though I have a feeling there’s not much I havena explored already numerous times.”

     I swatted at him irritably.

      “I didna say I was _bored_ of it,” Jamie defended himself.  “Or that every time isna just as amazing and breathtaking as the first time.”

     I was glaring at him when he sat down on the bed, holding me.  “Dinna look at me like that, Claire,” he said.  “Ye ken I was absolutely serious when I made that vow, putting my ring on your hand.”

      “Which vow?” I asked.  He turned, and laid me back on the pillows.

      “Wi’ my body, I thee worship.  Because I do.  And I will always.”  He punctuated the phrase by climbing over me and kissing me on abdomen, breast, and neck, then gently lowering his body onto me, resting on his elbows, and looking at my face curiously.  “Ye _liked_ that?” he asked.  “What I just said?”

     I wasn’t anywhere as big as him, but Jamie instinctively obeyed my body’s directives as I urged him to roll us over so that I was on top.  I started to cover his neck and chest in a flurry of kisses, but also found my eyes filling with tears.  Jamie grabbed my wrists and stopped me. 

      “I want to hear it,” he said.  “What is it?”

      “That’s always been my favorite vow,” I said, as he released one hand to reach up and wipe my cheek.  “I mean, in sickness and in health is nice, richer or poorer, ‘til death do us part.  But something about ‘With my body, I thee worship’ gets me every time.”

     Jamie’s face softened, but his body was responding completely the opposite.  He could have made love to me right then, but I was overcome with a feeling of generosity, scooting down the bed until I was between his legs, then lowering my torso until I could  envelop him with my mouth.

      “Oh my God, Claire…”

     If I had any doubts about how he felt about what I was doing for him, the sounds it drew from him made it quite clear.

      “You’re a magician,” he said, wide-eyed, several minutes later as I flopped back on the bed, tucked next to him with his arm around me.  “I’ll have to remember that phrase, if it makes ye that grateful and generous.”

      “How grateful and generous are _you_ feeling?” I asked teasingly. 

      “You have _no_ idea,” he said, exchanging positions with me.  “But allow me to demonstrate what I mean when I say ‘with my body I thee worship’.”

 

     Jamie headed off to school with a kiss and a hug, and the reminder that today he needed to stay at school for lunch.  It was Thursday, and for some reason I had the strange feeling that I was forgetting something.  But it wasn’t a regular clinic day, Sharbella had morning sickness again, and when I went to the clinic at 9, there was no one waiting for me.  I decided to see some families for home visits while I had the opportunity.

     I meandered toward Matolen, passing Najor’s house with some sadness, thinking of little Maxson.  On the edge of their property, I saw a wheelbarrow, probably the same one Najor had always used as a stroller for her son.  I waved at Karla, who was heading into their cookhouse.  “Iiokwe!” I said, and she responded in kind.

     As I walked a little farther, I came to a neat little property on the iar side.  The house was a bright blue, simple and boxy.  In the yard, one of the local mamas, Adina, sat on a mat with her two children close to her.  I remembered seeing the little girl around.  I think her name was Lolly, and I think the boy’s name was Lakatu, which means “handsome.”  He was one of the little people who suffered from boils on his scalp, but despite the small scars, the kids were adorable, and when I smiled and waved, Adina said, “Itok, Miss Peachay.”

     I came and squatted by her, but she scooted over on her mat to make a place for me.  She was weaving a beautiful decorative mat, made of small cowry shells, pandanus leaves, and thin strips of something that looked like raffia.

      “What are you making?” I asked, then tried my Marshallese to say the same thing. “ _Te ao komman?_

     Adina smiled and corrected me.  I watched with interest as she wrapped the paper-like raffia around the pandanus fronds, threaded it through a cowry shell, and then continued.  I pulled out my Majel cheat sheet and asked her about the kids.  Were they sleeping well?  Eating well?  Was washing Lakatu’s face and hair at night helping avoid more boils? Adina answered, and I scribbled down a few notes in my notebook, gave her a bar of soap and a pair of fingernail clippers from my bag, and then just sat, watching.

     After a while, she asked me, “ _Ta ṇe ear kabbōj eok_?”   

      “ _Jolok bōd.  Ij jab malele_.  I’m sorry.  I don’t understand,’ I responded.  She pointed at my stomach, so I wondered whether she was asking why I didn’t have kids of my own.  But by gesticulating and grabbing her own hips and belly, I finally realized she was asking me why I was so skinny.

     “ _Kilep emmon_ ,” Adina said. ( _It’s good to be big_ , I mentally translated.  “ _Inana aidik_ ,” ( _It’s bad to be skinny_ ).  Jamie had explained to me that in Majel culture, a little extra fat was a sign of wealth.  Men didn’t tend to be very big, as they did a lot of the physical labor and stayed quite active.  But once a woman had children, it was normal for her to fill out and have heftier curves.

     “ _Ijab enañinmej,”_ I told her.  “I’m not sick.  _Bwe ñan ṃōñā_. (Bway ngon MUNG aye) I have plenty to eat.”

     “Aet,” she smiled and nodded.  “Meester Shamie.”  Somehow just the mention of my husband was enough to reassure her that I was being taken care of and had adequate food. 

     I tried out more of my Marshallese on her, making Adina giggle effusively at my horrible pronunciation.  After a little bit, Adina got up of her mat and motioned for me to follow her.  “Itok,” she said, “Itōm ṃōñā.” (EE tom MUNG aye--Come and eat).  Despite Adina’s acceptance that I was being fed adequately, she didn’t see any harm in loading me up with additional calories.  She brought out some cold coconut rice and a can of tuna, and she, the kids, and I ate with our hands and laughed together. 

     Of course, partway through the visit, I made the mistake of remarking on how nice the mat was that she was making.  Before I left, she pressed a smaller version of the mat into my hands, about the size of a coaster—a little spiral of pandanus fronds with a ring of cowries around the outside.  I thanked her repeatedly, and then headed along to make a few more stops before turning back toward the clinic and house.

     At some point on my walk, I had what I thought was a fabulous idea.  There was no place on the island to escape from people.  It was as if the local children had a homing device that led them to anyone who wanted to be alone.  But there was one place I could strip down to a swimsuit and not worry about being seen—the iar!  If I went snorkeling, and removed my dress or shorts when I was out in the water, I could swim while the sun hit my back, and maybe I might even be able to float on my back long enough to do a little tanning for my front.  I’d quickly discovered that 15 minutes in direct sun without sunscreen was about all I needed to get a little bit of a pink glow that would darken into tan. I felt like a genius.

     When I got home around one, there was still no one waiting for me.  I drew water from the well to water my garden, where I ecstatically noted you could see little sprouts beginning to come up.  With one last check of the clinic, I wrote a little note—“Miss Peach etal iar.”

     I pulled on a bikini, then a sundress, hooking Jamie’s fish stringer to my bikini bottoms.  I grabbed my snorkel, mask, and fins, and headed out to the iar.  I even took along one of the fishing spears, thinking I might be able to catch dinner while I was at it.

     It truly felt like progress to be going snorkeling by myself, after the first time when I had clung desperately to Jamie’s hand.  This time, I quickly adjusted to the sparkly clicking sound, which Rupert had informed me was caused by some kind of coral shrimp scraping the coral, which sounded so close because water is a better conductor of sound than air.

     I looked around as I got farther away from shore.  Probably a mile or two away toward Arno Arno there was a boat being used by fishermen, but other than that I didn’t have any company at all.

     It was slightly complicated to pull off the sundress and then knot it to the fish stringer, but after that I put my mask and snorkel back on, making sure to twist my hair up in a knot so it wouldn’t cover my back, and then I swam around, trying to see if I could find any good coral outcroppings where I could catch some fish.  After about 15 minutes on my stomach, I tried to float on my back.  It was a much more complicated proposition, and wearing my mask would have been useful in keeping water out of my nose, but I didn’t want to have a weird mask tan.

     When I had reached my limit of back-floating, I turned back onto my stomach and did a little bit of spear fishing.  I certainly hadn’t gone a lot of times since the boys first took me, but my skills had definitely improved.  I chose my fish better, which resulted in fewer mangled specimens, and I was better at aiming, which meant a higher rate of success.  In another ten minutes, I’d speared seven really nice fish, hooked them onto the stringer through their gills, and then, putting my sundress back on, I headed back to our house.

     By the time I was home, it was getting close to three.  Salt water never felt good left on the skin, so I put the fish in a bucket of cool water, and took a cool shower, not bothering with boiling water. 

     I was quite proud of myself for catching dinner.  Now all I needed to do was get the coconut and we could have a traditional Marshallese meal.  I could also feel the glow of the absorbed sunshine on my back, and even on the fronts of my white thighs.  Whether or not Jamie loved my farmers’ tan, I actually had found a way to get rid of it!

     I scouted the yard, found a fallen mature coconut, and headed next door to Maria’s house with a bowl and the coconut.  Husking the coconut was far more challenging than Jamie or Maria made it look, but after several (okay, numerous) attempts, I finally got the coconut spike to pierce the husk, and I wrestled with it until I pulled the first chunk of husk away.  After that it got easier and easier, until I had a dark round coconut left, with just a few strands of husk attached. 

     The final step, of course, was to split the coconut.  I thought I probably should put the coconut on the ground to hit it with the machete, but I’d cut avocadoes in half in my hand for about forever, using a knife to pierce the seed, rotate, and then remove it.  So I grabbed the coconut in my left hand, grabbed the machete in the other, and with a deliberate hack, I hit the coconut.  Nothing happened.  I rotated the coconut in my hand, and tried again.  Again, nothing.  Finally, in frustration, I put the coconut on a flat rock, and swung at it with more force.  The coconut split, the machete glanced off the rock I’d set the coconut on, and in one slow, sickening moment, the rusty blade hit me on the left shin. 

      “Are you kidding me?” I exclaimed.  I dropped the machete, and limped away from Maria’s house, blood streaming down my leg. I wasn’t sad or hurting; I felt angrier than anything.  After being so proud of myself for solving my sun tanning problem, after catching dinner, and singlehandedly opening my coconut for rice, to injure myself made me furious. 

     The clinic door was thankfully unlocked. I grabbed a roll of gauze and a non-stick sterile pad, wrapping my leg tightly to see if I could staunch the blood flow to better inspect the wound.  The pain had taken a while to build up, but I definitely felt it now.

      “Bugger, bugger, bugger, bugger! Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ!” I chanted as I got out my suture kit, numbing pad, and lidocaine syringe. “Damn, damn, damn!” I grabbed the pot of water and put it on the stove, then moved one of the chairs next to the examination table. It was going to be a bit of a stretch to have my leg up on the table and try to lean forward to give myself stitches to keep the edges of the wound together.

     A little knock on the door made me cringe, until I saw the curly red hair peeking through the screens at me.  “Are ye wi’ anyone?” Jamie asked.

      “No, it’s just me,” I said.  When he entered, he grinned at me.  Quickly assessing the situation, though: the blood on the floor, me on the chair by the exam table, my shin covered with a bloody gauze, and suddenly Jamie’s face looked very white. 

      “What happened?” he said, kindly patting my hip after coming to sit on the floor by my chair where my wound was out of sight.

      “Machete,” I explained simply.  “I was just getting ready to make coconut rice for dinner.  And I was so proud of myself, too.  It’s really a bummer.”

     The tea kettle started steaming.

      “Can you help me, Jamie?” I asked.  “I need one of those basins, and I need you to fill the tea kettle the rest of the way with cold water.  I want to make sure this is clean before I stitch it up.”

     Given a task to do, Jamie seemed to overcome his squeamishness.  He poured the water over my leg as I held it over the basin, and I was relieved to see that despite the profuse amount of blood, the cut was only going to take four stitches to close.  When the time came for me to do the suturing, Jamie had to turn away, though, and he seemed very relieved once it was done and I was bandaged up.  He locked up the clinic for me, and helped me hobble back to our house.

     Once I was settled comfortably on the bed, Jamie proceeded to bring me water and prop up my leg with some pillows.  “So, Rupert and Angus have invited us to come to dinner tonight,” he said.  “You can rest for a couple of hours, and then we can head over there.”

      “Oh, I don’t think I really want to go,” I responded.  “Can we schedule dinner for another day?”

     Jamie looked strangely perturbed.  “We canna refuse the invitation of friends.”

      “If they’re friends,” I argued, “They’ll realize I nearly cut my leg off, and they’ll let us take a raincheck.”

      “Four stitches, Claire,” he said.  “I had eighteen, and I walked you home that night.”

      “Well, you were in love with me.  I’m not in love with Rupert and Angus. They’ll be fine with having us over another night.  Or just go by yourself.  It might be nice to have a little time with your buddies, and I might like some alone time, too.”

      “Dammit, Ripalle,” Jamie scolded. “Dinna be so selfish.  They’ve already gone to the effort to prepare a meal for us.  We’re going to Angus and Rupert’s and that’s final.”

     I stared at Jamie.  There was an odd air of desperation on his face.  I started to think that maybe he wasn’t ordering me just to be overbearing.  At the same time, I could see him visibly processing how things seemed to be going.

      “There’s a reason I want you to come, Claire.  Are ye afraid it will hurt your leg?  What if I carry you in a wagon or a wheelbarrow?  Or give you a piggy back ride?”

      “Don’t be ridiculous,” I said.  “I can make it to dinner just fine.  But I realized I haven’t taken anything.  Can you grab the acetaminophen bottle from the top of the dresser?  Maybe if I take a couple and rest for a little while, I’ll feel better by the time we head over.”

      “And we could just plan to stay the night,” Jamie suggested offhandedly, “So we wouldn’t have to walk back home in the dark.”

     I raised my eyebrows skeptically.  “Do you really think Angus and Rupert would be okay with us staying in their house for a night?”

      “Only if I promise on my honor not to have sex wi’ ye…” Jamie said, then added with a cheesy grin, “And I wouldna.  At least not very noisily…Though I canna make any promises about _your_ volume.”

      “I only make a normal amount of noise during sex,” I said, frowning. 

      “If so,” Jamie said, “It would be very educational to discover what a ‘large amount’ sounds like.”

     The nap helped, as did the Tylenol, and by five o’clock, I felt ready to head out.  Jamie grabbed night clothes for me, and clothing for both of us for the next day, while I remained enthroned on the bed like an invalid. 

     And as we set out toward the school, I felt extremely curious about what awaited us.                            

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Notes:  
> My two co-teachers and I invented snorkelbathing to combat the massive farmers’ tans we were getting on the island. We had tried slipping off to the beach somewhere between Ine and Matolen, but every time we peeled off our sundresses and lay down on our towels, like magic the local children would arrive, and at the sound of happy little voices approaching, we had to pull our dresses back on.
> 
> When snorkelbathing, getting your back tan was no trouble at all (we had to work to make sure we didn’t get too scorched—especially being as close to the equator as we were, 15 minutes was almost enough time to get a sunburn if you didn’t wear sunscreen). Trying to tan your front was a much more challenging proposition. Salt water up your nose and in your eyes doesn’t feel very good. Ah, the price of beauty!


	3. Hashtag Blessed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Scots make an effort to support their American friend.

    When we got to Rupert and Angus’s, I could tell that Jamie was excited by the way he increased his pace.  We reached the door of their house, and without knocking, Jamie threw open the door and stepped aside so I could hobble in.

      I understood _everything_ instantly.

      Rupert and Angus’s house was covered with construction paper art projects. Everything was brown and orange and yellow.  There was a brown paper tree trunk, and on all of the uneven paper branches, there were orange and red and yellow cut out leaves. 

  


  

      Little hands had been traced and cut out and made into turkeys.  Little hands had been dipped into paint and slopped onto paper, creating _turkeys_.  There were acrostic poems, each one spelling out either T-U-R-K-E-Y or T-H-A-N-K-S-G-I-V-I-N-G.  And of course, I burst into tears, as the three of them stood there looking completely proud of themselves. That’s what I’d forgotten…today was _Thanksgiving!_

      Rupert came over and gave me a hug.  “We give ye a hard time about being American, Miss Peach, but we really do like you.”  I squeezed him around the middle, so soft and teddy-bearish.

      Then Angus came and smashed his angular self up against me, encircling me with his arms.  “Aye, our lives wouldna be half as interesting wi’out ye in them.”  I hugged him, but had to start repeatedly patting him on the back as he held onto me a little bit too long.  “Okay, Angus.  All right, Angus…  Angus…  _Angus_.”

       “Angus, come on.  Let go of my wife,” Jamie finally had to say, and Angus obeyed, reluctantly.

      I walked a few steps farther into their house, looking at all the artwork, the little messages, “Iiokwe, Miss Peach!” and the fantastic assortment of fall-colored paper. “You guys!” I gushed tearily.

      I noticed, then, that their kitchen table was covered with a fall-themed plastic tablecloth; they had Thanksgiving paper plates and napkins, and even cups.  And then I noticed the smell.

       “You’re _kidding_ me!” I said, rushing into their kitchen.  On the counter was a pumpkin pie and a bowl of mashed potatoes; simmering on the stove was a small saucepan of gravy, and inside the oven there appeared to be a roasted chicken and a pan of stuffing.

       “How in the world?” I asked them, standing up after peering through the glass window of the oven.

       “Yer ma, of course,” said Jamie, grinning.  “Knowing that the American Thanksgiving holiday was coming up, I wrote and asked her if she could help me make it special for ye.  And she sent over a box with the paper plates and things, herbs for the chicken, dehydrated mashed potatoes, a couple gravy packets, a box of stuffing mix.  We bought the chicken and got butter and eggs from Mr. Ogawa’s store, and here it is!”

      I walked over to Jamie and hugged him tightly, and he bent to kiss me on the forehead.  I would have turned my face up to be kissed as well, but Angus was still staring at me lustfully, and I didn’t want his brain to explode. 

     “What happened to you, Claire?” Rupert asked, gesturing at the bandage on my leg with his oven-mitt covered hands.

     “She had an unfortunately run-in wi’ a machete,” said Jamie.  “It was a bit of a painful walk for her.  We were thinking we might stay the night, so she doesna have to walk back home until tomorrow.”

     Angus and Rupert exchanged skeptical glances, but then shrugged.  It wasn’t as if they could kindly say no to an invalid!

       “Well, shall we eat?” asked Rupert, pulling the chicken from the oven.  Each of the rest of us grabbed something and brought it over to the table. When everything was there, there was barely room for our plates.

       “So, Claire,” said Angus.  “What are the Beauchamp traditions?  What does yer family do when ye sit down to Thanksgiving together?”

       “Well, we each say something that we’re grateful for, and then we say grace…while holding hands,” I said.  “But you know, that’s just my family.”

      For a moment, Frank filled my memory, the two of us holding hands and saying what we were thankful for.  We’d joined his family a couple of times, but they lived across the country in California. The last two Thanksgivings, at least, had been in Boston, once with friends, and once just the two of us.  It had been a simple meal, and I remembered thinking I wished we might at least say grace before we ate. Frank and I had a mostly secular marriage, and there were moments I thought of the way I’d been raised with a pang of regret.

      Jamie smiled at me. “This day is for you, Ripālle, so if that’s what your family does, that’s what we’ll do.” 

       “Before we start, though,” Rupert said, “I’m making a rule that you, Jamie, canna say you’re thankful for Claire, and you, Claire, canna say Jamie, or I’m going to _boak_.” 

       “Aye,” said Angus, shaking his head.  “We dinna want to hear about it.  We want to be thankful today, not nauseous.”

      Jamie and I smiled at each other, then shrugged.  “Fine,” Jamie said, as he reached over and took my hand in both of his anyways.

       “Okay, then, I can start,” offered Rupert.  “I’m thankful for my little students,” he said, smiling.  “They drive me crazy some days, and I’m pretty certain they’ve given me lice again from loving on me so much, but they are the sweetest things, so happy to see me, so funny.  I canna imagine a better job.” 

       “I’m grateful for simplicity,” said Angus, grinning as he stopped at that.  But my brain continued his thought.  The lack of mental clutter, media, even the news, meant I just didn’t feel as negative or anxious here.  I nodded; I was grateful for simplicity too.

       “Well,” Jamie said, “I’m grateful for living surrounded by such beauty.  To wake up in the morning and watch the sun rise, to walk on the beach.  Sometimes it’s just so gorgeous here, it makes my heart ache.” He sighed, looking straight at me with a little grin on his face.

       “That’s cheating,” said Rupert. “This is a warning.”

       “Wow,” I said, shaking my head, looking around the table.  “Ya’ll are such girls!”  I grinned then.  “No, just kidding.  Thank you for sharing.  I am grateful for those things too, but I am especially grateful today for _friendship_.  For people who care enough about what matters to me to celebrate a holiday that really doesn’t have meaning to them personally.  It was really sweet, guys.  Thank you, Jamie.”

      Jamie smiled, and leaned in to kiss me, which I returned with heartfelt passion.

       “Alright, enough o’ that,” said Rupert.  “We’ve got plenty of food here.  Just kiss the girl.  Ye dinna need to eat her!”

       “I have a grace I could say,” offered Angus.  We nodded, then reached out our hands to each other.

“Father, Son and Holy Spirit  
Thank you for your presence with us.  
Bless this food to our bodies  
That we may be strong to serve,  
gracious in giving  
And overflowing with love.  
  
Amen.

       “Now, let’s eat!” commanded Rupert. 

      I had developed a love for local food, and I’d created a basic rotation of simple menus that were decent, but something about the familiar flavors of bird and stuffing, with mashed potatoes and gravy, just made me happy.  The boys seemed to be enjoying it too, and expressed their surprise that ‘pah-tah-toes’ from a package could taste so good. 

       “We need Claire’s mom to send us more food,” declared Angus, sitting back in his chair while rubbing his stomach. “And she’s nearly as cute as you, Claire.  If something happens to yer da, I’ll volunteer as yer step father.  A little time being fed by Robin, and I’ll be fat as Rupert!”

       “Well she loves taking care of people,” I said.  “I’m sure if we sent a request, she’d do her best to accommodate.  But as to the other part—there’s no way in hell you’ll ever be my stepfather!” Angus raised his eyebrows suggestively at me, as if that might make me rethink my decision. 

      When we all retired to the couches, so full we weren’t even able to eat our pie yet, Rupert and Jamie both undid the top button of their shorts and slouched down with contented sighs.

       “I’d better be cautious now that I’m a married man, Ri-pālle,” said Jamie, looking down at his belly. “I’m being so well fed, I might get fat if I’m not careful.”

       “That willna happen as long as yer constantly jogging home at lunchtime cause Claire gets so ‘lonely,’” Rupert said sarcastically.

      I had cuddled up to Jamie, but at the sight of Rupert’s lowered eyebrows, I scooted a decent distance away, though Jamie’s arm was still behind me across the back of the couch.  I was trying to be kind.  After all, it was bad enough that we were sleeping over…

       “So, Claire,” said Angus. “Food was delicious, but where did Thanksgiving come from?  The First Nation people joining with the marauding invaders whose diseases would eventually bring them to near-extinction?”

       “I thought you said you would forgive my American-ness today,” I said, making a face at Angus.  “Once America became a true colony, yes, the policy of mercantilism did mean that the native Americans were mistreated and the resources of the country ravaged to send more value back to Britain.  But the first immigrants, the pilgrims, were simply searching for religious freedom.  And as far as Thanksgiving goes, I think it was just that the Pilgrims were grateful to make it through the long voyage, and wanted to thank the native Americans whose help saved them.”

       “That’s a laugh,” said Angus.  “People going to America for religious freedom!”

       “Opinionated much?” I asked.  “But no, I do agree that Americans can be a little short-sighted when it comes to the founding fathers’ real intentions.  They had come from England, where there was a national church that wanted to restrict their freedom of choice.  So America is a nation where people fled to be free from religious oppression, but since then, they’ve kind of declared Christianity to be the “American” religion.  Not like they force people to go to church, but it’s definitely preferred to Buddhism or Hinduism, or heaven help us, Islam.”

       “Sounds like you’ve got an opinion, too, Claire,” Jamie said.

       “I grew up Christian,” I said.  “I might not really be a churchgoer, but I have faith in something bigger than us.  But I do really believe in the separation of church and state.  The government should not be used to put forward a religious agenda.  I don’t think religion should be used to justify discrimination.  There are things that are clear in our declaration of independence about the equality of people, and we should be supporting peoples’ basic rights, but…”  I glanced to my left at Jamie.  He was looking at me with a small, admiring smile on his face, just nodding as he listened to me.  For a second, I was dumbstruck by the look on his face and his blue, blue eyes, and then he turned his head and looked back at Angus and Rupert.

      I finished weakly “…I don’t think we should try to legislate morality or force the views of conservative segments of the population on the whole.”

      Angus and Rupert were staring at us, looking back and forth between the two of us. I’d felt something as Jamie looked at me, a flurry of desire, a little butterfly in my stomach.  I started to think about going to bed with him, but tried to focus on what he was saying.

      Jamie added, “Well, there is an official church of Scotland, the Kirk.  But they do respect differences of opinion and it’s no like they’re in the majority.  I think they only have a little less than a third of the country’s population, and there are about half as many Catholics as members of the Church of Scotland.  They dinna try to legislate morality, really, but they do have strong opinions on abortion and euthanasia, and they’re against the death penalty.”

       “This is getting too deep for me,” complained Rupert.  “After eating such a huge meal, I think my brain is trying to fall asleep.”

       “On Thanksgiving in America, we’d be lazy, watching a football game after dinner,” I said.

       “ _American_ football,” said Angus, rolling his eyes.  “ _Foot_ ball.  Where their feet rarely, if ever, contact the ball.”

       “Well, the one good thing I can say for American football is that they actually have a sport that’s good for a man of my body type,” said Rupert.

       “Not near as much exercise as real football, though,” said Jamie.  “We should go outside and play some football…” he sat up straighter.  “That would wake us up.”

       “Aye,” said Angus.  “Two against two.”

       “But I’m awful at sports,” I said.  “And besides,” I held out my leg pitifully, “I cut my leg today.  I’m not running around on coral gravel and taking a chance at damaging myself worse than I already am.”

       “Aye,” said Jamie.  “You’re right.  We canna do it tonight.  But as for being bad at sports, now _that’s_ a problem, Ripālle.  Something else ye should have told me before ye roped me into this marriage.”  He grinned as he put his arm around my shoulders and pulled me close.

      The guys told stories about their growing up years in Scotland, expressed opinions which quickly devolved into arguments, and eventually we interrupted our deep discussion to eat a piece of pumpkin pie.  As it got later, Jamie started yawning, and I was feeling exhausted myself.

       “So, for making this a nice holiday for your American friend,” I said to the guys, “It sure seems like you have an awful lot of anti-American feelings.  You know that Americans descended from people all over the world, all over Europe, don’t you?  There are plenty of Scottish people in the United States.  I mean, I’m a mix of a bunch of different ethnicities.  I’ve got German, Danish, Irish, English, and Welsh blood in me.  My ancestors didn’t live that far away from your ancestors.”

       “Irish, English, _and_ Welsh?” Jamie repeated.  I nodded.

       “That’s the whole U.K., save for Scotland,” Rupert announced loudly.

       “Ye dinna have even a little bit of Scot in ye?” Angus asked, his brow furrowed.

       “No,” I answered innocently, shaking my head, “But most days I _do_ have a big bit.  At least once, sometimes twice.” I kept a deadpan expression on my face as the boys stared at me, confused.  Slowly, as they reconsidered Angus’s question and my answer, and created a conjunction of the two, their eyes widened, and then they dissolved into laughter.  I couldn’t tell if Jamie found it funny, because he was blushing profusely as he shook his head, covering his face with his hand.  But I giggled, and cuddled into his side, and he squeezed me next to him, kissing me on the forehead.

     “Yer disgusting,” Angus groaned, “Get a _room_.”

      Rupert narrowed his eyes at us.  “If Miss Peach hadna gotten hurt today, I would force the two of ye to walk home.   We are going to take pity on ye.  But if ye make any jungle noises, so help me, I will _murder_ you in your bed.”

       “Oh, Rupert,” I said reassuringly.  “Don’t worry.  I got hurt today.  I need to take it easy.”  I pointed at my bandage.

       “Aye, and we wouldna disrespect ye by doing the nasty in yer house while you’re here,” promised Jamie earnestly.

      When we closed the door to Jamie’s old bedroom, though, and met each others’ eyes, it was very clear that both of us had _totally_ been lying.  I nearly got the giggles, but held my finger up to my lips.  If we were going to do anything, it had to be _silent_.

      Jamie drew me into his arms, and whispered in my ear, “You are _so_ _naughty_ , Claire.”  He nuzzled my neck, then sucked on my skin.  I gasped, and his hand found my mouth.  “Shhh.”

     I turned to face him, and looked into his eyes.  “You know I’m most thankful for you, right?”

     He bent down to kiss me.  “And I couldna be more grateful than I am to have ye as my wife.  Happy first Thanksgiving.”

     I pushed myself up on my tiptoes and kissed him again.  “This was so thoughtful.”

     Jamie held me in his arms, and bent his forehead to my shoulder.

     "D'ye mind if I pray for us?" he asked quietly.

     I nodded.  "That would be nice." 

     And so he did, reciting words that sounded like they'd been spoken over many couples throughout generations.  And, once again, I just felt thankful.

"We praise ye, Lord, for your gentle plan that draws us together in love for one another.  
Strengthen our hearts, so that we will keep faith with each other, please you in all things,  
and come to true happiness in our marriage. We ask this through Christ our Lord.  Amen"

      I wiped a few tears from my eyes and sighed.  "I love you so much, Jamie."

     We undressed, didn’t bother putting on any nightwear, turned off the light, and crawled into Jamie’s old single bed.  “This is _tiny_ ,” Jamie said, spooning me.  “I like how it forces ye to be right next to me.”  He started caressing me.  “Stop squeaking,” he whispered into my ear.  “I ken ye like it, but ye canna be noisy. Do ye remember the last time we slept here together?”

     “Of co--urse,” I gasped.  “We got engaged the next day.  How lo-ong has it been?”

     “Two and a half weeks,” Jamie replied.  “The day rather sticks out in my memory.  It was a Monday, wasn’t it?  It was mail day.”

     I put my hand behind my back to touch him, and Jamie buried his face in the pillow.

     “Damn, Ripālle, if ye had done that that night, I wouldna ha’ been a virgin when we got married.”

     “But I didn’t,” I whispered.  “I wouldn’t have.  I respected you too much.”

     Staying quiet was definitely a challenge, as Jamie’s hands found all the spots he knew I like to be touched, and I was feeling more and more aroused.

     “So,” he whispered.  “Having never tried to have silent sex before, nor to do it in a single bed, how do we keep the bed from squeaking?  Any movement, and this thing’s going to let Angus and Rupert know _exactly_ what we’re doing, poor jealous bastards.”

      “This works,” I said, arching my back, and guiding him in. 

      “Oohhhhh,” he groaned.

      “Shh,” I hissed.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Chapter Notes:_  
>   
>  We ate so simply on Arno that when we did make a 4 or 5 course meal for Thanksgiving, we felt disgusting. But celebrating traditions from home did help us to feel less homesick.
> 
> _Claire’s nasty mind is mine, but the joke is also courtesy of my husband’s humor. The great-great-great-grandchild of immigrants, I grew up saying “I’m German, Irish, English, Danish, and Welsh.” Once I started watching Outlander, my husband said something about me watching it because of my Scottish heritage. I rattled off my ancestry list and said, “Even with all those other ones, I’m not Scottish.”_  
>  Husband said, “I bet you wish you had a little Scot in you.”  
> And nasty girl that I am, I said, “No, but I’d take a big one.”
> 
> _http://www.foryourmarriage.org/catholic-marriage/catholic-beliefs/prayers-and-blessings/_  
>  https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Church_of_Scotland


	4. Skinnydipping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just what it sounds like...

     Leika was one of the most beautiful women I’d ever met, with dark hair and dark eyes, high cheekbones, and the most perfect shade of mocha skin.  She’d already been obviously pregnant when I arrived, even in the body-hiding muumuus she and the other Marshallese women wore.  Now that she was nearly nine months along, she walked with the distinct sway of a very uncomfortably pregnant woman. She smiled as she entered the clinic door, and I quickly ushered her to a chair.

     As I examined Leika, Sharbella explained that women out on Arno didn’t tend to rely on the care of medical professionals to give birth.  The local women had been helping their daughters and granddaughters, sisters and nieces to give birth for centuries.  However, Sharbella told me, Leika wanted me to be there for the birth.  The younger generation put value on Western education and Western medicine.

      “Did you go to the Peace Corps school?” I asked her.

      “Yes,” said Leika shyly.  “But I forget a lot of my English.”

      “Well, I’m still learning Majel,” I said understandingly.  “The children say, ‘Miss Peachay ej ba kon jiddik nin͂nin.”  It made Leika laugh to hear that the local kids still told me I talked like a tiny baby whenever I tried to engage them in conversation.

      “How long you take classes to be nurse?” Leika asked me.

      “Emān iiō,” I said.  “Four years.  And then two more, to become a nurse practitioner.  That means I can do some things a doctor could do.”

     Leika looked at me with wistful admiration.  I wondered what she would have become if she’d grown up in a more westernized culture or a larger place with more job opportunities. 

      “Well, this little dude is getting big,” I said, taking the measuring tape off of her belly.  “I’d say you have anywhere from a day to a couple of weeks before he shows up.  First babies tend to decide when they are going to come—and that’s going to be one of three: early, right on time, or really late.”

     Leika looked at Sharbella for the translation, and I smiled apologetically.  With Leika being in her early twenties, it was easy to fall into patterns of talking to her like she could easily understand me.

     I helped her off the exam table, and she smiled.  “I send my brother to get you when time comes.”

      “Good,” I said.  “I am happy to be able to be there to help, and to make sure the baby is healthy.”

 

     It had been a while since my midwifery rotation, and I wanted to refresh my memory in case Leika went into labor anytime soon, so that evening I sat at the kitchen table with my huge textbooks spread out in front of me.  Today was definitely one time I really missed having access to phones and the internet.  To be able to look up articles, call or email Joe, or watch a video refresher course would have made the process a lot easier.  It felt a little like being back in school, poring over the books and taking notes.  I was grateful, actually, that the local women felt so confident helping in the birthing process, because I’d only been present at a few, and had never presided over a delivery.

     I looked up from scribbling down some suggestions to ease the pain of the mother during labor as well as the basic time line for the phases of delivery to see Jamie staring at me from his spot on the bed where he had been reading a novel, now leaning back against several pillows, a half-smile on his face. 

      “I never knew that I could feel this way about a person.  My heart aches, just looking at ye.  Will you come over here so I can hold ye?” He had such longing on his face, my own heart responded with a similar ache.

     Grateful for any excuse to leave the dry academic reading behind, I walked over to the bed.  Jamie reached out his hand to me, and ushered me into his arms.  His chest beneath his tee shirt was warm, and the arm behind me was warm.  I felt slightly sticky.

  
  


  
_We didn't look quite this cute cuddling..._

 

      “It’s _so_ hot,” I groaned.  “I think you and I should live at the North Pole, just so we can cuddle as much as we want to.”

     Jamie’s chest leapt under my ear as he chuckled. “ _Scotland_ might be cold enough,” he offered.

      “Is it?” I asked.  “I’ve never been.”

      “Hmm.  I have an idea,” Jamie whispered into my hair.  “Do ye want to go skinny-dipping, Ripalle? If we get cold, it’ll feel good to cuddle each other…”

     I met his eyes, raised my eyebrows, and with a suggestive smile on my face I reached across him to turn off the lamp.

     We giggled as we turned off the remaining lights and stripped off our clothes.  In the darkness, I reached for Jamie, finding his hot flesh grown even warmer with his excitement.  He gasped as I ran my hands down his firm body, pulling him to me as I grabbed his backside.

      “Sure you want to go out there?” I asked, as he stroked my hips, then cupped my breast and groaned.

      “Aye,” he said, removing his hands from me.  “‘Tis a boyhood fantasy come true if we do.”

     We wrapped ourselves in towels, and I grabbed a sheet, thinking that should we decide to make love on the beach, I’d rather not get sand in my crevices. 

     It was a challenge to avoid descending into laughter and alerting our neighbors, but we managed to feel our way across the yard in the darkness.  Then we dropped our towels at the crest of the beach, Jamie leading me by the hand into the ocean.  Our one concession to safety was that both of us were wearing water shoes.  It would be no laughing matter to step on a sea urchin or poisonous cone shell.

     The tide was on the low side, so we had to wade out a distance before the water reached Jamie’s chest.  By that time it would have been up to my neck, but before then Jamie had put his arms around me, I wrapped my legs around him, and he muscled both of us through the water.  The air was cooler, and the water felt nearly cold, so I relished having the heat of Jamie’s body against mine.

     Jamie stopped walking finally, and began exploring my curves with his hands.  “Oh, Claire,” he started to wax poetic, as he was wont to do when the nearness of my body was driving him mad. “Your body is so luscious…your breasts like…”

      “Shut up and kiss me,” I said, pulling my body closer to his.  In the darkness, I focused on sensations: the slow surge of cold waves making us sway together, the soft pressure of Jamie’s mouth on mine, his tongue exploring the perimeter of my lips, gently tasting my tongue.  He cupped my buttocks and lifted me higher, bringing my cleavage up towards his mouth, sampling the skin under my ear, my neck, and my collarbone.  As he drew one nipple between his lips, electric shocks traveled from my breasts to my groin.  Jamie latched on to my nipple, suckling me until I could feel the pressure of arousal flood my abdomen.

      “God, Jamie,” I said, lifting his face up towards me, wrapping my arms around him and clinging to him with my legs. I felt desperate for him to enter me, but inwardly acknowledged to myself that he often spent so much time on me that he didn’t get a chance to receive.

      “Take us shallower,” I gasped, trying to slow myself down so I could focus on him.   He obeyed, returning to a depth where I could again stand, putting me at just the right height to lick the salt water from his nipples and reach my hands around to grab his muscular ass. 

     Both of us laughed at precisely the same moment, which made us pull apart for a split second, and each offer our own explanations.

      “I love knowing exactly how much you want me,” I murmured into his damp chest hair, running my hand down his belly to seize the clear evidence.

     A chuckle rumbled through Jamie’s chest. “I was just wondering if there was a dangerous level of being aroused.  I feel like I’m going to burst.  Or pass out, one of the two.”

      “To shore, then?” I asked. “I only foresee a sandy disaster or dual drowning if we try to make love out here.” Jamie laughed in response.

     We sloshed back to shore, stopped frequently by the magnetic pull of each others’ bodies and lips.  It took a few minutes, but we found our towels and dried ourselves off…slightly.  Jamie was desperate for me now, and dropping his towel, he lifted me as if I weighed nothing, and with my towel still around me, he pressed me against the rough bark of the closest coconut palm.  With his arms holding my thighs, Jamie grunted, easing himself in partway, and then withdrawing.

      “Christ, yer so wet you’re practically dripping,” he moaned, the next few slow strokes proving he was not exaggerating.

     I grabbed him around the neck, supporting my weight slightly, as the pace of his movements and his volume indicated he was very close.

      “It’s no working for ye?” he panted. “I dinna think I can wa…” He spasmed, jarring my back against the tree repeatedly, and ending with one crushing thrust, then gently releasing me to the ground.

      “I’m sorry, Claire,” he murmured.  “Did I hurt ye?  I was rough.   And I didna wait for ye.”

      “Don’t apologize,” I said.  “That was _sexy_.  I just…”

     He was on his knees in front of me before I could finish my sentence.  This time it was me panting and moaning as he explored me with his tongue and fingers, caressing my rear and thighs with his strong hands.  My climax announced itself with whimpering gasps, and when I had ceased my shaking, Jamie kissed me on the thigh and stood up. 

     I clung to him for a moment until my own lightheadedness faded.

      “That was somethin’,” I whispered.  Jamie laughed, we gathered up towels and the sheet, and headed back into the house.

     Back in the apartment, we met each others’ eyes in amusement as we each returned to our former tasks.  Jamie wrapped himself in his sarong, but I was still feeling damp and sat down at the table with my towel wrapped around me.

     After just a few minutes of silence, though, Jamie spoke.  “Christ, Ripālle, you are _so_ sexy.” He stared at me from his spot on the bed, shaking his head.

      “Says the man on the deserted island,” I grinned back at him.  “Flatterer.”

     I noticed then that Jamie looked uncomfortable, needing to speak.  “I’ve been wondering something, and I want ye to be honest wi’ me, even if it hurts me.”

      “Absolutely, Jamie.  What do you want to know?”

      “Did ye make love to Frank, to say goodbye?” He was struggling to meet my eyes.

      “No!” I exclaimed earnestly.  “What made you ask that?”

      “I just…when I first heard about Frank, when I first met you, I couldna understand how a man could let his fiancé leave him behind.  And that was _before_ I had any idea what making love wi’ ye was like, what you were like as a sexual partner.”

      “Well, honestly, Jamie, I wasn’t this kind of sexual partner with Frank.”

     Jamie looked taken aback.  “What do ye mean?” he asked. 

     I felt slightly embarrassed, and didn’t want to expose Frank to judgment.  “You are eager, enthusiastic, generous, and very complimentary, and that inspires me to generosity as well.  Frank and I had kind of gotten in a rut.  Sex was good, but pretty routine.  What we have together is anything but that.”

     Jamie had been looking down at his hands with a shy smile, but then he met my eyes with an intense gaze. “Still, Claire, how would any man who had ever been with ye keep his hands off you?  And you and Frank were even in a hotel room together.  Didn’t he _try_?”

      “He _did_ kiss me,” I admitted.  “He wanted to see how I responded to him.”

      “And _did_ you respond to him?  Did you want to make love to him?”

     I looked at Jamie, inwardly debating whether he could handle the truth. “I didn’t feel like I used to, but I considered it.  He was so sad.  That’s how I used to comfort him.”

     Jamie’s face was stricken.

      “But I couldn’t, Jamie,” I insisted, leaving the table and coming to sit by him on the bed.  “I didn’t want to.  It would have been _cheating_ on you.”

      “Aye,” he said, nodding his head.

      “You knew you were taking that risk when you sent me, Jamie,” I said. “How did you _do_ that?”

      “I kent it was risky,” he said.  “And I did feel a fool once you were gone.  Murtagh said I definitely _was_ one; that if I’d been in my right mind I would never have let you go.”

      “You trusted me, Jamie,” I said.  “That meant a lot to me.  And it made me choose–it made me decide what was most important to me.  Even though I didn’t want to go with Frank, you were right to force me.”

      “I just wondered.  Cause the next day, you were crying when we made love.  And I wondered if maybe ye felt guilty.  Or sad about Frank.”

      “No, I just feel a lot, now that I’ve come back.  I’m grateful for someone who loves me so fully, who focuses on me.”

     Jamie still looked disconcerted.  “You loved Frank once, and you stopped.  I dinna want to, but sometimes I find myself wondering: how can I know you won’t change your mind?”

     I turned to Jamie, and grasped both his hands in mine.  Looking in his eyes, I said, “Til death parts us—and maybe even past then.”

     His blue eyes were wide as he looked at me.

      “It’s a _vow_ , Jamie,” I said.  “We have something special here.  It’s worth protecting.  It’s worth fighting for.  When I proposed marriage, you said marriage wasn’t something you took lightly.  That when you got married it would be forever.  Well, I promise that, too.”

     He stroked my hands with his, running his long fingers over the simple gold band on my third finger.

      “Til death parts us –and even past then,” he said, pressing a gentle kiss on my lips.  Then he lay back against the pillows, and I reclined next to him. 

      “So, you joked about moving to the North Pole,” Jamie said.  “Have you thought much about the future?”

      “Not really,” I said.  “In Boston, I was just focused on school and then work.  Every once in a while I thought about what it would be like to have kids.   But I wasn’t much of a dreamer back then, though I’ve always wanted to be an adventurer. How about you?”

      “I dinna ken, really.  I know I like kids.  I know I _love_ you.  I miss Scotland, but I dinna ken if I’ll be able to go back there, with my record.  But, I want to do something good, ye know?  Like, there’s already enough evil in the world.  I want to be _good_.”

     I snuggled under his arm, the residual chill from the ocean making me relish Jamie’s internal furnace.  “Well, we both chose service professions.  Helping people, healing people, teaching people.  Nursing and teaching are both flexible careers, which we could take anywhere in the world.  But for the present, we’re here.  In this incredible, beautiful place, with each other.”

      “Aye,” said Jamie.  “And that’s good enough, for now.  Whether we adventure in the future will be up to both of us.”

     I sighed in his arms, relishing the thought that no matter what life brought, I would have _this_.  Suddenly I wanted to look at him, so I sat up, letting my eyes settle on his face, the strong jawline with a little bit of reddish scruff.  The thoughtful blue eyes, under eyebrows that currently were asking me why I was looking at him.  I reached up to touch one of his red curls, still damp from our ocean adventure.  And then I looked at his chest, the muscles of his abdomen, the cut of his hipbones, the strong lines of his thighs beneath the sarong, his copper leg hair, and his long toes.  Having filled my eyes with my handsome husband, I lay back down again.

      “Now, what was that?” he laughed, as I leaned against him again.

      “You’re so handsome, Jamie.  I like to look at you,” I said, feeling him chuckle beneath me.  “I was just thinking that even if I don’t know what the future will hold, I’m pretty happy about the person who will be there with me.”

      “My turn,” he said.  “But I need you naked.”

      “That’s not necessary,” I responded, instinctively bringing my hands up to where the towel was tucked in at my chest.  “Besides, we already had sex.”

      “I just want to take in your beauty,” he said.  “Nothing sexual about it.  Like seeing a nude statue in a museum.”

     I hesitated.

     “Will ye please?” he asked, eyes twinkling, raising his eyebrows.  “Ye did tell me the other day that I was to enjoy you with my eyes.”

     “Tsk,” I rolled my eyes.  “You _would_ use my own words against me.”  I rested my head on one hand.  “Okay, unwrap me.”

     From the care he took in untucking the towel and uncovering me, I got a feeling that Jamie was a child who _didn’t_ destroy the wrapping paper on Christmas morning.  Then he took his own turn gazing up and down at me, a look of longing, love, and pained desire on his face.  He met my eyes in a question, and I nodded.  As he continued to caress me with his eyes, he reached out his hand and stroked my body, his fingers gentle and warm. The directness of his gaze was almost disconcerting, so I lay back against the pillows and closed my eyes, focusing on his touch, like angels’ wings on my skin.

 

    “Claire,” he whispered.  I opened my eyes, to see his face inches from mine. “I dinna think I could love ye any more than I do right now,” he said, leaning in to seal our union, again, with a kiss.


	5. Telephone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jamie does a science project with his students

     “Save that can, will ye, Claire?”  Jamie called from the table where he was, _again_ , grading papers.  I was beginning to see a trend of what the life as the wife of a teacher would entail. 

      “What for?” I asked, deferentially cutting off the label and rinsing the can out before setting it on the counter, instead of mashing it and tossing it in the trashcan.

      “I’m teaching the fourth through sixth graders about waves in Science class,” Jamie said, “And we’re going to make tin can telephones.  With that one, I think I’ll have 12.  Not enough for everyone, but I dinna have enough string, anyway.”

      “Tin can telephones?” I asked, incredulously.  “We really _have_ stepped back in time!”

      “It’s a fun way to teach them about sound waves,” Jamie said.  He furrowed his brow.  “You wouldna be available to help in my classroom for a few hours tomorrow, would you?”

      “Sure,” I responded.  “Clinic is never that busy, and I can leave a note on the whiteboard.”

     Jamie sighed in relief.  “That’s the one awful thing about active projects.  They can be fun, but trying to help the kids, when they all have questions at once, can be really overwhelming.”

 

     The next day, I strolled down to the school to arrive there at 10 o’clock.  Jamie was perched on the edge of his desk at the front of his classroom.  Unlike the last time when his back had been turned and I snuck into the room, this time he looked up and smiled as I entered.  “Ah, here’s Miss Peach.”  It amused me that everyone still called me by their version of my maiden name, but it sounded especially funny coming out of Jamie’s mouth.

      “Iiokwe, Miss Peach,” the happy faces chorused as all the kids turned to me.

      “Okay,” he said.  “Patrick, will you take one end of this Slinky™?”  Patrick responded obediently, and I peered at him, wondering why his Marshallese parents had decided to give him such an Irish name!  After Jamie had another student on the other end (I think his name was Telnan, which sounded like Telling-on),  Jamie had the boys take turn shaking their end of the Slinky™ to see if they could get a wave to travel to the other end of the metal spiral.  I loved the adorable peals of giggles as the kids watched.

      Jamie had several pairs of students rotate through, getting a chance to hold an end of the Slinky™ and both beginning and receiving waves started by others.

     After all who wanted to had a chance, Jamie got the students corralled in their seats again.

      “So, wee ones,” he said.  “We’ve been talking about waves.  Can any of ye raise your hands and tell me an example of a kind of wave?”

     Lots of arms waved furiously in the air, and Jamie heard from several in succession.  “Ocean waves!”  “Sound waves!”  “Seismic Waves!” “Light waves!”  “Radio waves!”

      “And then,” Jamie asked.  He was totally adorable, I thought, wondering why I didn’t watch him in action more often.  Teacher Jamie was mesmerizing, with his copper waves falling over his forehead, his expressive face engaging with the kids and showing pleasure when they got an answer correct.  I would have had _such_ a crush on him as a student, I decided. 

      “What are some of the things we have here on Arno that use waves?”  Jamie  asked, accepting a number of answers.  “Ocean waves?  Of course.  Short wave radios?  Satellite phones?  Have any of you even seen or held a cell phone?”

      “Yes,” Hemity Ogawa, the store-owner’s daughter responded first.  “My cousin Ruben in Majuro has his own cell phone.”

      “Do ye think that a good thing or a bad thing?” Jamie asked.

      “Well, emmon _and_ enana,” Hemity responded.  “It’s good and bad.  It’s good because he can call his auntie who lives in Hawaii and talk to her.  It’s bad because sometimes he just wants to play games on his phone, and he doesn’t play outside with us.  He’s getting really pig.”

     It made me smile to hear Hemity’s pronunciation of “big.”  Sometimes I would forget that the Marshallese pronounce b’s and v’s and f’s all with the same sound.

     Hemity liked the response of her classmates, who had giggled at “pig.”  “Ayet,” she continued.  “He’s lukuun kilep.  Very fat!”  All the kids giggled.

     One little guy had been raising his hand for a long time. 

      “What are you wondering, Carlson?” Jamie asked. 

      “In Amedka, they have many phones, don’t they?”

     At Jamie’s glance in my direction, the kids all turned to look at me.  “Um, yes,” I responded.  “Almost everyone had their own cell phone that they carry around.”

      “Ri-pālle are bery rich,” one child remarked.

      “Oh, is that why Amedkins get so fat ?”  One little girl asked, earning a response of giggles across the classroom, but lowered eyebrows and a head shake from Teacher Jamie.

     Carlson had his hand up again.

      “You weren’t finished, Carlson?” asked Jamie.

      “No,” he responded.  “If all of those waves are traveling everywhere in Amedka, isn’t that a dangerous thing? 

     Jamie nodded thoughtfully.  “Well, we dinna ken for sure.  But I think it’s healthier in many ways to not have phones.”  He grinned over their heads at me.

     With that, Jamie went through a quick demonstration of what we were going to be doing.  Each student would work in a group of three.  Two of the group members were to come up and get a tin can.  The third group member was to grab a string or a piece of wire and a nail.  Jamie showed an example of two tin cans with a small hole in the bottom, and the string threaded through and knotted.

     Jamie quickly realized it would take forever to pass the hammer between the groups of students, and that it was quickly going to get too loud in the classroom.

      “Meester Shamie,” Riti said.  “If we go outside, it willna be so noisy, and we can use rocks as hammers.”

     Was that really possible?  I wondered with a grin.  She had totally just done a Scottish shortened verb.  I was curious how many Marshallese students were running around the island telling people they “dinna ken” things and that they “didna” “couldna” “wouldna” or “shouldna” do that!

     Once the students had gotten their supplies, we headed out to the grassy play area, where the groups spread out.  They needed less help than Jamie had imagined they would, but he and I meandered from group to group, offering assistance as needed. 

     Within ten minutes, all of the student groups had spread even further apart, and were happily putting their ears or mouths to the cans and trying to send and decipher messages.  True to what Jamie had said, the groups didn’t stay separate for long.  They traded telephones, trying out the sets with different lengths of string or with wire, and experimenting with different tightnesses of line between the cans. 

 

 

  


 

     When we were done, Jamie could tell the kids were a bit excited, so he had them set the telephones down a play a round of soccer before returning to the classroom to debrief.

     I found the din of excited voices overwhelming, and it was interesting to hear the mix of Marshallese and English during the discussion.  Even Riti seemed to fall into Marshallese when she was trying to describe her response to the experience.  In times of emotion and excitement, it did seem like it would be natural to return to your native language. 

     With a grin and a wave, I tiptoed to the door, but Jamie made sure to stop his students in time to have them call out, “Thank you, Miss Peachay!” as I left the room.

 

     That afternoon when Jamie got home, he seemed rushed and breathless. 

      “Meto is taking his fish to Majuro to sell,” Jamie panted.  “He’s leaving from the dock in a half hour, but he’ll be coming back early tomorrow morning, so we wouldna miss any work or school.  Do you think we can make it in time?”

      “Why do we need to go to Majuro just for a night?”  I questioned, though the idea of an adventure appealed to me.

      “Dinna we need to buy plane tickets to Guam for Christmas?  Ye can talk to yer family.  And I _really_ need to call my sister, Jenny.”

     I didn’t have much time to consider it, but Jamie’s reasons were good enough.  However, at the thought of a boat ride, I instantly went to the clinic to grab a package of motion sickness pills and quickly administered the maximum dosage for Jamie.  Within ten minutes, we’d thrown some clothes and simple toiletries into Jamie’s backpack, along with my cell phone and charger, and we were jogging down the road toward the oceanside dock in Ine.

 

     Although Jamie still did get a little bit queasy from the fishy smell of Meto’s boat, generally the motion sickness pills did their job.  Jamie and I sat together on a stack of pallets during the 90 minute boat trip, and for a part of the time, at least when Meto wasn’t watching, Jamie lay with his head on my lap.  When he had his eyes closed he could ignore some of the movement of the boat, he told me, and I enjoyed the comfortable monotony of running my fingers through his curls.

     The island of Majuro came into our sights quite quickly, but in order to dock Meto’s boat, we had to travel around the south side of the atoll, pass under a bridge, and then travel north to the Shoreline boat dock, which was right next to the MIMRA Outer Islands Fish Market.  Meto told us that he would sell his fish and spend the night with his brother’s family, who lived on the island.  We would need to meet at four the next morning at the boat dock to head back to Arno.

 

     And with that, Meto headed off toward the fish market, leaving Jamie and me standing on the dock.

      “Shall I call a taxi?” I asked.

      “I dinna want to ride in anything else,” Jamie responded.  “Anyway, the hotel is just about a quarter of a mile from here.” He gestured down the road to the left. 

      “Hotel?” I asked.  “You don’t want to call Dougal and see if we can stay on their couch?”  I had turned away from him while talking, so when I turned back to him I could still see the slight look of confusion on Jamie’s face as he thought through the logistics of staying on his uncle’s couch as a married couple.  When he saw my teasing expression, he narrowed his eyes as me jokingly. 

      “You’re a cheeky one,” he said to me, drawing me to him with his arm around my neck, pulling my ear close to his lips.  “Ye ken verrry well exactly why I dinna want to sleep on my uncle’s couch tonight, Ripālle.  Ye arna very good at keeping your noises in check, wee one.  And I mean to make ye squeal tonight, that I can tell ye.”

     Then Jamie looked away from me, but not before I could see the smirk on his face as he recognized my visceral response to his words.

      “We’re such newlyweds,” I scoffed, shaking my head.

      “Well, it’ll only have been three weeks tomorrow,” Jamie said. 

      “You’re kidding,” I responded skeptically.  “I could swear it’s been a year.”

      “No.  Just three weeks ago,” Jamie assured me, as he started walking in the direction he had indicated, reaching back for my hand.  Instinctively I almost pulled away, then realized we weren’t on Arno anymore.  “Anyway, I thought it would be good to check in at the hotel first.  I was thinking we could drop our clothes there and take just the backpack to do some shopping.  There are plenty of stores right here—a hardware store, a supermarket, and if we want to go to a Taiwanese restaurant for dinner, we can stop in at the Office Mart store, which is also in that direction, to pick up paper and pencils, things I need for school.”

     It had already been a long day, and the thought of shopping, at real stores, was almost overwhelming to me.  “But I thought you wanted to call Jenny,” I said.

      “It’s only 5 am in Scotland, so I shouldna call Jenny right now.  No if I want to catch her in a good mood, anyway,” he said, a hint of some emotion in his voice.  I could tell something was going on; what, I wasn’t sure.

     In a few minutes we had arrived at RRE Hotel and restaurant.  By States’ standards it was quite a plain building; in comparison with Arno, it seemed a palace with electric lights, and even a little air conditioning in the lobby.  When Jamie and I stood at the counter waiting for assistance, I looked over at him.  He had a very thinly-veiled look of excitement on his face.  At the question in my eyes he leaned over to whisper.  “It’s my first time.  At a hotel.  Wi’ a woman.”

     We decided to stick with a basic room instead of a beachside bungalow.  I had an idea that flying to Guam wouldn’t be cheap, and simple was quite sufficient for a single night stay.  After retrieving our keys from the desk, we headed to our room to drop off our clothes.  Realizing that they provided free internet, I also thought I might try to make our reservations for flights to Guam at Christmas.

      “D’ye mind if I take a real shower, Ripālle?” Jamie asked.  “It’s been a long day and it’s been several weeks since we were at Dougal’s house.”

      “No worries,” I said, from my spot at the desk where I was charging my phone and signing into wifi.  “It’ll give me time to figure out flights for Christmas.”

     It was good that Jamie was enjoying his shower and took a long one, because it gave me a chance to recover from sticker shock.  The per person price for the “Island Hopper” to Guam was $1056 per person.  I knew, from my dad’s experience going on a diving expedition, that the Island hopper was called that because it landed on Kwajelein atoll, Kosrae, and then Pohnpei (Ponape) in between Majuro and Guam.  With short stops at each island to refuel and for passengers to get off and new passengers to get on, the travel time was just over 8 hours.  I could only imagine how green Jamie would be after four take-offs and four landings.

     Knowing that I wouldn’t be able to make payments if I used my credit cards, I had set up an automatic payment to come from my checking account.  I’d left several thousand in there when I left home, but thanks to online banking, I was able to transfer the amount from savings into checking, and charged both tickets by the time Jamie got out of the shower.

     He walked out of the bathroom, towel wrapped around his hips, drying his hair with a second towel, and came to stand behind me at the desk.

      “Holy Hell!” he exclaimed, when he saw the price on the phone.  “A thousand dollars for the two of us?”

      “Um, no,” I replied.  “That’s a thousand dollars for one person.”

      “We canna do it, then, can we, Ripālle?” he said.  “I guess I can just have you go to Guam for Christmas.”

      “Too late,” I said, switching off my phone.  “Already purchased both of them.”

     I turned and smiled up at him, but was surprised to see that he looked irritated.  I was taken aback at the flash in his eyes.  I knew he had red hair, but there hadn’t been many flares of temper in our short marriage.

      “Are you kidding me, Ripālle?”  Jamie asked, in a low, intense voice. “You spent _two thousand dollars_ while I was _in the shower_?”


	6. Siblings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Between money and marriage, there's plenty to argue about, especially when you talk to your sister.

      “Are you kidding me, Ripālle?”  Jamie asked, in a low, intense voice. “You spent _two thousand dollars_ while I was _in the shower_?”

      “I had it in savings,” I said.  “Wait til you see what it costs to fly to Scotland!”

      I had thought I could appease him with humor, but that wasn’t working.  My second attempt at diffusing the situation, which consisted of tugging on his towel suggestively, was met with a continued glare.  “Dinna try to change the subject, Claire,” he said, gripping the towel more firmly with one hand while he pried my fingers off with the other.

       “Okay, Jamie,” I said, acknowledging his emotion.  “Get dressed, and let’s talk.”

      I grabbed the hotel stationery and pen and opened up my bank app.  I figured there must be something deeper that had triggered Jamie, but I thought that openness would at least help him see why I wasn’t particularly concerned about the cost of the tickets.

      When we were settled next to each other on the couch, I started, hesitantly.  “You’re frustrated with me and I want to understand why.”

       “Ye just spent a huge amount of money, and ye did it wi’out us talking about it first.  Two thousand dollars is like six months of Peace Corps stipend, so I canna pay my part.”

      I took a deep breath before speaking.  “Your part?”

       “I dinna want to be your child, Claire.  That’s how I feel when you use your money to pay for us.”

       “My money, again!”  I exclaimed.  “Okay, Jamie.  We’ve not been anyplace we can get access to phone service since we got married, so I hadn’t added you to our accounts yet, but I will do that while we are here.  I can call Bank of America and get them to send paperwork, and we can get that taken care of.  So that it’s not my money, it’s ours.”

       “But,” Jamie protested, then paused.  “Okay, that’s fine.  I remember ye said you want to make it harder for us to disentangle ourselves.  But that could be a bad thing.”  He paused.  “Do you have credit card debt?”

      I was about to exclaim, “Are you kidding me?” but then reconsidered.  It was a valid question.

       “No,” I responded.  “But I _am_ still paying on my student loan from becoming a nurse practitioner.  That’s $200 a month, which is coming out of my savings.”

       “Well, I’m glad for that,” Jamie said.  He had lowered his eyebrows, which he tended to do when he was concentrating.  “That _was_ one thing Jenny chided me for when she first found out we were married, wi’out knowing very much about each other.  She was afraid I’d linked myself to someone who would take everything I had.”  He chuckled ruefully.  “Not that it would be very much.”

      Looking at him, I again realized that there were definitely unknowns in our relationship.  “Okay,” I said.  “Let’s spell it out.”  On the note pad, I wrote out my assets and debts.  I had a 403B retirement plan that I’d started when I began working as a nurse five years previously and which I had added to through the years.  I had made it through college almost debt free because of my parents savings plan and the fact that I worked as a Certified Nurse’s Assistant.  Going back to school had required a few loans, but I had frittered them down to $18,000.  I still had the little Honda I had purchased when I entered college, so no car loan.  And Frank and I had shared expenses equally on a frugal life, so I’d been setting aside regular savings as well, ever since graduating, at about $1000 a month when I was able to.  Before heading out to Arno, I had reached a balance of $50,000. 

      I showed Jamie the balances on my phone.  “I’m serious, Jamie, about considering this _ours_.”

       “But I bring so little,” he responded.  He took the phone from me and looked up his accounts at the Bank of Guam—one of the two bank branches there on Majuro.  “My savings account has only three thousand in it, though that is considerable, since I didna really have much help making it through college.  I have about $20,000 in student loans, but they are being deferred because I’m serving as a teacher in the Peace Corps.”

      I wrote Jamie’s bank balances with mine, and his loan under mine, then totaled them to find we had about $53K in wealth and $38K in debt.  For an instant I understood Jamie’s panic; in a matter of minutes, I’d gone from thirty-two thousand of net wealth to fifteen.  Suddenly, two thousand dollars seemed a much more significant number.

      I sat next to Jamie, staring at the numbers.  “Fifty thousand used to seem like a lot of money.”

       “Well, the loans dinna have to be repaid right away, and when they do have to be paid, I’ll be making more than $350 a month,” he said encouragingly.

       “So what made you so mad?” I asked.  “I thought you had said we were coming to Majuro to buy tickets to Guam.  So when I found the only ones available on the dates that would work, I purchased them and transferred money from my savings to my checking.  I had the money to cover them.”

       “Honestly, Ripalle,” Jamie responded, shaking his head and taking the sheet of numbers from me.  “I couldna tell you.  I’m not exactly sure why, but it seems that money has caused two of our disagreements, both of them here on Majuro.  Out on Arno, money really doesn’t impact us frequently, so we havena talked about these things very much.  Don’t you feel resentful, though?”  He turned to me.  “Seems to me I got the better end of the bargain.”

       “You can make up for it when I retire and you keep working another five years,” I joked, grabbing his hand.  “Really, Jamie, as long as we’re both honest with each other, as long as we don’t have some secret purchases or debt, I’m not really worried.”

       “But I do think we should consider what we do when we make big purchases,” Jamie said.  “Because when I saw those numbers, I had a near heart attack.”

       “Okay,” I said.  “Maybe we can just agree to talk about it before large purchases—or focus our spending on what we value.  Do we value family and relationships?”

       “Of course,” Jamie responded.  I could feel him relax slightly next to me.

       “And experiences?  Adventures? We value those, don’t we?”

       “Yes,” he said, reaching his arm casually over my shoulder.  He wasn’t crossing his arms anymore, I noticed.

       “So a trip to Guam completely fits in with what we value.  Christmas with my family, a new place to see, some new experiences.  And because I— _I mean, we_ —did have it in savings, I think it was okay to spend that money.”

       “Aye,” Jamie sighed.  “I think ye’re right.”

       “For me, I do want some financial security,” I said.  “I like to save a part of every paycheck and not spend it all.  And early on I decided to save for retirement.  Are there any strong feelings you have about money?”

       “Well, seeing as I havena had much of it,” Jamie said, “I havena really thought it out.  Maybe I should, and we should plan to talk about it more.”  He sighed.  “But for now, my belly is beginning to rumble, and I think we need to _spend_ a little money and buy ourselves dinner.”

      We debated between the Taiwanese place and just eating at the hotel restaurant.  In the end, convenience won out, and I was delighted when I discovered the chef at the RRE was Filipino.  On Guam, our church potlucks and air force get-togethers were always multi-national affairs, with local Chamorro food, along with Japanese, Korean, American, and Filipino, with an occasional German dish thrown in by those who had been stationed previously in Germany. 

      As I looked over the menu I started salivating.  I was practically giddy to get to eat lumpia, the Filipino version of egg rolls, and pancit, a deliciously savory rice-noodle dish with chicken, egg and vegetables in it.

       “Do ye want some wine, Ripalle?” Jamie asked, as we were getting ready to order, looking down the wine list. 

      I took a deep breath.  “I don’t exactly _drink_ ,” I responded.

       “What does that mean?” he asked, an incredulous look on his face.  “Don’t ye drink, Claire?  No even wine, at a restaurant?”

       “Not anymore.  There’s a history of alcoholism in my family, so my parents never drank, never had alcohol in the house or drank it at restaurants.  I went through a time of drinking, but the few regrettable things I did in college occurred when I was under the influence…” I looked at him, trying to read his expression.  “Does that _bother_ you if I’m a non-drinker?”

      Jamie looked up at the ceiling, shaking his head, then looked back at me over his menu.  “I was just thinking…So when you came home to me, having chosen me over Frank, ye came home to a drunken fool?  And you a non-drinker!  Did you rethink yer choice?” His eyes were wide.

       “You’re an adorable drunk, Jamie,” I said.  “If you’d been a mean drunk, that would have been different.  But you were so honest, so heartbroken…I think drunk Jamie’s blatant love for me reassured me more than anything that I’d made the right choice.  It was like you’d been anesthetized with nitrous oxide—you know, laughing gas?—and you couldn’t lie to save your life.”

      Jamie buried his face in his hand, laughing.  “I married a non-drinker, and I’m a Scot.  We’ll have a hard time explaining why ye willna drink whisky when ye visit my family, wee one,” he put his hand on mine.  “But it’s no a deal-breaker.  I dinna drink much myself, and the shame I feel right now, I think I shouldna make it a frequent habit.”

       “Frrrrrequent,” I mimicked.

      After our supper, we strolled along the lagoon drive to the little area of markets.  Again, nothing like stateside, the stores were weathered on the outside.  There was one little clothing shop, and I found another sarong to add to my wardrobe—though I bought it in a generic color, in case Jamie decided to steal it. 

      When we walked into the grocery store, though, I felt overwhelmed.  The shelves were a riot of bright colors, with bright lights overhead, and Christmas music being piped through the speakers.  I felt myself almost hyperventilating from the overstimulus, and was grateful when we’d grabbed our bags of fresh produce and a few packaged goods I’d run out of.

      The sun was beginning to set as we hiked our last distance, having dropped off our first purchases in our hotel room, and we finished with some time in the office supply store.  While Jamie picked out construction paper and some art supplies for his classroom, I found some pens and a new journal for myself, as well as a box of file folders and another of hanging files for the clinic records.

      I anticipated returning to our hotel room and giving Jamie another first—hotel sex.  However, as we approached the hotel, I could sense that Jamie was feeling tense.

       “I need to call Jenny,” he said at the question in my eyes.

       “Your sister?  Why so nervous, then?”  I was surprised that a family phone call would be so stressful.  He’d already written and told everyone about me.

       “Ye dinna ken my sister,” he said.  “She’s tiny, but she’s fierce.  I’ve been afraid to call her.  There’ll be plenty of judgment coming from her my direction when I do…”

      By then, my phone had fully charged.  “Does Jenny have FaceTime?” I asked him.  “Or Skype?  You could use one of those to do a face-to-face call.  Maybe seeing her will make it less scary.”

       “Or more,” Jamie responded.  “I’ll be able to see the scorn in her face too, no just hear it in her voice.”

      I tried not to laugh at him, but held his hand and sat next to him on the couch as he dialed the number. 

      I could see the two of us next to each other in the screen.  I checked to make sure I didn’t have anything green in my teeth, and brushed my fingers through my hair.  I was just attending to one of Jamie’s errant curls when a pixilated image appeared on the screen.

       “Ian!”  Jamie exclaimed.  “How are ye, man?”

      I was almost forgotten for the moment, until Ian managed to stop Jamie, who sheepishly introduced his best friend to his new wife.  Ian had a kind smile, and seemed genuinely happy to meet me.

       “Jenny was just getting Mags up for the day.  Little one wakes up bright and early at 6, but we make her wait until the clock says Seven Zero Zero.

       “Seven zee-wo zee-wo,” said a little voice, and a mop of curly brown hair appeared at the bottom of the screen.  “Up, Daddy,” she said, and for a few moments, we saw carpet, then wall, then ceiling, then a pudgy little hand, and then Maggie’s face, right next to Ian’s.  She puckered her lips and touched the screen on their end.

       “Wook, Daddy,” she said.  “I’m a fishy!”  Suddenly she noticed us.  “Unka Jamie!” she yelled.  “And whose dat wadey?”

       “This is my wife,” said Jamie.  It made me flush to hear him.  “She’s yer Auntie Claire.”

       “Auntie Cware?” Maggie asked, lowering and raising her eyebrows.

       “Say ‘Nice to meet you,’” Ian urged.

       “Nice to meet you,” she said, hopping off his lap and galloping away, from the sound of her retreating footsteps.

       “I dinna want to seem unfriendly, Claire,” said Ian, “But ye might actually want to make yerself scarce until Jenny’s had a moment to talk to just her brother…”

      The advice came too late, as a strong female voice came over the speaker.  “Who called us, Ian?  And did ye pick up my phone?”

       “It’s Jamie,” Ian said, and the picture on the screen pixilated and gave us a dizzying swoop through the room, until the screen settled on a dark-haired woman, whose eyes were the same striking blue as Jamie’s.  I could instantly see the family resemblance, and found myself smiling, but she was looking at me skeptically—or at Jamie, I couldn’t tell which.

       “Well, brother, fancy ye taking the time to call us,” Jenny said.  “Wi’ such big news, I woulda thought that you ye woulda called us when ye were in Majuro three weeks ago and ye decided to get married.  But no, I’m only yer sister, half a world away in Scotland.”

       “Exactly half,” I responded.  “It’s amazing that you’re exactly 12 hours behind the Marshall Islands.”  Jenny squinted at me; it looked a little like a glare.

       “Jenny, may I introduce ye to my wife!” Jamie said.  If I’d expected a friendly response, I was sorely mistaken.  “This is Claire,” he said, but there was no smile from her.

       “Hello,” Jenny said shortly, in acknowledgement.  “Brother,” she continued, “is there any chance that we could speak alone?”

      I shrugged as Jamie met my eyes.  However, after walking across the room, I simply opened and shut the door, and then slipped off my shoes and crept across the room to recline on the bed and listen.

      When she was certain I’d left, Jenny continued.  “James Fraser, what the hell were ye thinking?  Of course, ye werena thinking at all, were ye?  Just like a man, letting yer cock dictate yer choices.”

       “Jenny!” Jamie exclaimed.

       “I’m not finished,” she declared firmly.  “She’s no a Catholic?  Ye didna get married in a kirk?  Her father’s some non-denominational preacher in the American military?  Ma and Da would be rollin’ in their graves if they knew ye’d married some heathen.”

       “She’s not a heathen, Jenny.  Don’t be ridiculous,” Jamie managed to get in.

       “She’s American.  So of course, she’s going to drag you wherever she wants to, and we,  those of us who’ve loved ye yer whole life, we willna ever be able to see ye again.  Why would we?  We’re naught but yer family.  We dinna matter.  What we think of this decision of yers doesna even play into your thoughts.”

      Jamie sat, patiently listening, until Jenny had scolded him for everything known to man, from the deicisions he’d made as a teenager, to the times he had broken her toys when they were children.  That was probably an exaggeration, but she was not pleased with him at all.  The only respite came when his nephew Wee Jamie wandered into the room and climbed up on his mother’s lap. 

      It was obvious from Jenny’s tone that she loved her son deeply, and she was finally able to take a breath.  When Jamie wandered off she began again, but this time she spoke more slowly.

       “Uncle Dougal gave his permission?  She’s pregnant, isn’t she?”

       “No, Jenny,” Jamie responded.

       “Still,” she said.  “I canna believe ye’re letting yer boaby dictate yer life.  Ye just wanted to have sex, didn’t ye?  Was that the only way ye could get your jollies?  Yer hand doesna serve ye well enough anymore?”

       Jamie scoffed in disgust. “Don’t you think twenty-two years is a long enough time to be a virgin?” he asked.

       “No!” Jenny exclaimed as if shocked.  “Surely you and Laoghaire…” I could see Jamie’s face flush from where I was sitting.  “The two of ye certainly spent a lot of time hanging out in yer bedroom wi’ the door closed to have stayed a virgin, ye numpty.”

      Jamie shook his head.  “No, Jenny.  I waited.  Which is more than I can say for you!”

       “Hey, James!” I heard a male voice from the background of their call.  “No fair.  Jenny and I waited til we were engaged, and ye ken it.”

      There were more uncomfortable minutes of scolding and quiet lack of response from Jamie, until finally it seemed as if he’d reached his breaking point.

       “Now, Jenny, I’ve listened to ye about as long as I can.  Claire is a wonderful, intelligent, beautiful woman.  She’s educated, she’s a nurse, she’s kind.  And she has been willing to get married to a pretty-much penniless young man with barely a thing to his name.  And we were married in the sight of God and people who loved us both.  We’re married, and we’re committed, and no amount of scolding me is going to change how much I love her.  You dinna have to love her, but I hope you will come to someday, just as I love Ian.  Ye canna know how much I’ve changed since I was there in Scotland.  But ye dinna need to worry about me bringing shame to the Fraser name.  That’s no the man I am anymore.  And if there’s anything good I’ve done in my life, marrying Claire is the best thing I’ve ever decided to do.”

      With each sentence, Jamie had been sitting up straighter and straighter.  His chin was lifted, his jaw strong, his eyes piercing.  When he finished, he looked fully twice as big as he had before.

      Then I heard a slow, soft chuckle over the phone.  “Well, Jamie, ye do appear to feel very strongly for the lass.  And if she’s a good enough woman to earn your love, then I’m sure in time I will come to like her as well.”

       “Good night, Jenny,” Jamie said.  He hung up the phone, set it on the couch beside him, and stood to his full height.

       “I’m taking ye to bed, woman,” Jamie said, his gaze fixed piercingly on me.  He was standing beside the bed, his face fiery, his muscles flexed, back straight; he was magnificent.  “If everything I said to my sister didna manage to convince ye how strongly I feel for ye, then the next hour of your life _is going to_.”

     I’ve said it before: James Alexander Malcolm MacKenzie Fraser is a _man_ of his _word_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Notes:  
> One of things I remember about growing up on Guam was the amazing variety of cultures, all gathered in the same place. In no place was this more obvious than at our church potlucks or meal-shares. I grew up eating sushi before sushi was cool. ;)


	7. Labor and Delivery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leika's time has come.

     Four-thirty came extremely early the next morning.  Jamie and I pulled on clothing and struggled to get all our new purchases shoved into Jamie’s backpack, with our dirty clothes in the plastic laundry bag from the hotel closet.  I nearly forgot to give him motion sickness pills, but fortunately remembered before they got completely buried in the bottom of the backpack, and then we trotted off to meet Meto at the boat dock for the trip back to Arno.  We got home at about six thirty, and with a bitty nap for Jamie to try to settle his stomach, headed off to our Friday work.

 

     I had known that Leika could go into labor at any time, so when one of her younger siblings came to get me mid-afternoon on Sunday, I grabbed my bag plus some food and a pillow, in case the labor was a lengthy one.

     “If ye come back late, have someone walk wi’ ye,” Jamie instructed.  “But I may come by later just to see if there’s anything you need.”

     I was beginning to see Jamie’s straightforward orders in the light they were meant—as a concerned, informed person who was truly trying to care for me.  But as an independent woman, at times it still rubbed me the wrong way.

     Jamie’s eyes twinkled as he regarded my face.  “Ye ken that I would do nearly anything ye told me to, don’t you?” he said.  “It isna me trying to tell ye what to do wi’out considering you.  I just want you safe.”

     I walked into his arms, sighing when the now-familiar warmth met me.  My ear against his chest, breathing in the musky scent of him, ocean, sweat, and Old Spice deodorant, I reveled in the way his arms wrapped around me but didn’t just hold me placidly, his hands stroking my shoulders, arms, back, and hair.

     I touched him, too.  With my eyes closed, I traced his back, from shoulder blades down his slim sides, to the waistband of his shorts, where I hesitated.

     Suddenly, I wanted nothing between us.  And at the same moment, Jamie spoke.

     “He’s no waiting for ye, is he?” he asked hopefully.  “She’s only just started right, and this is her first baby…”

     I stepped back from him in answer, reaching down to undo the button and zipper of his shorts.  He extended his arms up and pulled his tee shirt off.  With his shorts hanging low on his hips, he began unbuttoning the myriad of buttons on the front of my dress.  When they were open to my waist, I pulled my arms out of the sleeves and shimmied the dress down off my hips.

     Jamie stopped then, reaching with his hand to cup my chin and draw my eyes up to him.  “I never want to take ye for granted, Claire,” he said, his eyes connecting to mine.  “I can see in your face when my concern and care for ye seem to stifle ye, but I dinna understand it.  See, you, Claire, are the most valuable thing in my life.  Surely ye canna fault me for protecting something so precious to me.”

     “I’m sorry, Jamie,” I responded.  “It’s just, sometimes chivalry seems belittling.  Like you think I can’t take care of myself.  In many ways, you are not a modern man.”

     A small smile played around Jamie’s lips.  “Is that what ye want me to be, then?  A modern man.”

     My mind ran over all the things a modern man was, at least in American culture.  Job-obsessed, money-obsessed, video-game obsessed, and porn-brained.  My eyes must have widened in the realization, because Jamie looked confused.  I squeezed him, then.  “ _Not at all,_ Jamie.  I am lucky to have you, and you are perfect just the way you are.”

     “Excellent,” Jamie said.  “And for that, I am going to love you _so well_ , Ripālle.”

     It was one of those times when our desire to serve each other clashed, when we seemed to each be wanting to outdo the other in generosity, kisses, and caresses.  Finally Jamie laughed.

      “Dinna wear yerself out, Claire.    You’ve got a delivery to attend to, and who knows what the next hours will bring.  Lie back and let me get pleasure from hearing and watching you.  I dinna need turning on, and sometimes touching you, feeling the way your body has roused to me is the only thing I need to be ready.”

      “But,” I protested, pushing myself up from the bed on my elbows, “It feels like you’re always the one to sacrifice your needs.”

     He made a skeptical face, and gestured toward my body.  “In what world is this a sacrifice?  I’m pretty much guaranteed an orgasm, Ripalle.  You, on the other hand…”

      “It’s just, I don’t know if I can,” I said.  “My mind is elsewhere.”

      “Say my name,” he said.  “Tell me how you feel about me.”

     I closed my eyes, trying to relax.  “Jamie,” I breathed.  “When I see you, my heart jumps a little.  Watching you the other day with your students, I felt so pro—oud! of you.  When I think about the chances that brought me to this island, the crazy way we fell in love…okay, I’m still distracted.”

      “Okay, then, tell me what you like,” Jamie said.

      “I like it when you run your fingers down my back and sides, push my hair aside and kiss my neck,” I said, rolling on my side to give him access.

      “I like it when you reach around and hold my breasts from below,” I whispered, gasping when he obeyed, still kissing my neck.

     I like it when you touch me from behind,” I breathed, rolling forward and parting my legs slightly.

      “Christ, yer sexy,” Jamie said as he continued to nuzzle my neck, reaching his hand down to tease my inner thighs before following my suggestion.  By then he had my full focus, and when I’d come, I gratefully climbed astride him and got to watch his face as he reached his own climax.

     He kissed me soundly before I headed off.  “Just remember I love ye, Claire.  That’s the only thing that matters.”

     I felt a little sheepish when I arrived at Leika’s house, but no one appeared to think anything of my delayed arrival.

 

     “Emetak,” Leika murmured.  I could see that she was in pain from the look on her face, but her voice, other than sounding a little strained, was no louder than normal.  Her hands were on her lower back.

      “Is it back labor?”  I asked.  “Metak ilikin?” I put my hands on my lower back with a questioning look towards Leika.

      “Ayet,” said Ralik, Leika’s mother.  She was holding Leika’s hand and pinching the web between her thumb and first finger.  It made me smile to see her using the pressure point, a place that I’d learned, during my  natural medicine course, which has been proven to reduce pain in other parts of the body by centering pain in the hand instead.

      “Let me try,” I said.  I urged Leika to roll over on her side, and with the flat of my fists, dug into the muscles of her lower back.  She groaned, much louder than anything I’d heard so far, so I took my hands off.  [“Joḷọk aō bōd](http://marshallese.org/dictionary/?langChoose=mh&input=jo%E1%B8%B7%E1%BB%8Dk%20a%C5%8D%20b%C5%8Dd),” I said. “I’m so sorry!”

      “Ejjab bōd,” she breathed.  “Is good.  Eṃṃan.”

     I knew what she meant.  Sometimes the best massages I’d had hurt while the masseuse dug into my sore muscles, but it was a good hurt, and in the end I felt much better.  I continued to press on her lower back, smiling across at Ralik.  I had to change positions so I didn’t injure my own back, so I sat cross-legged behind Leika, leaning my weight behind my arms to press firmly against her.

     We were able to rest a little between contractions, but weariness started to assault me after several hours, when the late afternoon shadows had faded and twilight set in. When I checked Leika, she was only partially effaced and dilated, which meant we were in for several more hours before she could even start to push.

 

     It had felt like an eternity by the time the clock said 10 p.m.

      “Claire,” the voice was faint and low, but recognizably Jamie. 

     I nodded to the others and crept outside.

      “Hey, Ripālle,” Jamie said, putting his arm around me.  “How is it going?”

      “We’re in for several more hours before she even starts pushing,” I said.  I could feel Jamie stiffen as he heard Leika’s low moan.

      “I dinna like to hear a woman suffer.  I dinna like to hear _anyone_ suffer, but hearing her, I canna help but think of you, Claire.  It may sound horrible, but it’s fine if ye arna able to get pregnant.  I will never have to hear you in pain like that.  Dinna think I could handle it.”  He kissed me on the top of my head.

      “Is there anything you need?” I asked.  In the faint light, I could see a sheepish look on his face.

      “Nah.  Just to see you,” he said.  “We havena slept apart since we married, and I missed ye in my bed.”

     In response, I reached both of my arms around him and squeezed him, feeling the muscles of his back and the slight give of his sides and abdomen.  I could feel him sigh with pleasure.  “I love you, babe,” I whispered. “I’ll come home as soon as I can.”

      “I like it when you call me babe,” said Jamie.  “Much better than baby boy.”

     For a moment I rested in his arms.  I hadn’t realized how I was clenching my own body with every labor pain Leika went through, but I could feel myself relaxing now.  “Jamie, you’re like human Xanax,” I said.

      “Zan ax?” he asked.  “What is that?”

      “Oh, it’s like an anti-anxiety medication,” I said.  “Can you rub my shoulders a little?”

     I stood in front of him, relaxing against his solid form as his thumbs found the knots in my shoulders and pressed against them.  I relaxed, but it wasn’t long before I could tell that our contact was affecting Jamie the opposite way.  I laughed.  “Again?  We just did it before I came.”

     Jamie nipped my ear, murmuring huskily, “I’m a young man, Ripālle, just newly married, and I have _no_ control over my body’s response to ye.  I dinna want to have sex, but I like to be close to you.  I like to touch you.  And I miss ye.  My body doesna realize what kind of longing I’m experiencing, so it’s responding the only way it knows how to.”

     As I heard Leika’s voice rise in response to another birth pain I reluctantly pulled away.  “Thank you for checking on me, Jamie.”

      “Is there anything ye need?” he asked.

      “I was just thinking—on the top shelf of the free-standing cabinet in the clinic there’s a box that holds an exercise ball and a pump.  I’m wondering if being able to sit on that might relieve some of Leika’s pain.  Do you think you could follow the instructions to pump it up and bring it back?”

      “Definitely,” Jamie said, his eyes brightening.  “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”  I handed him the key ring from around my wrist and heading back in to resume my post at Leika’s back. 

     She smiled at me weakly as I pressed. “Kommol tata.  Eṃṃan,” Leika murmured gratefully.

     I smiled as I translated in my head, “Thank you.  That is good.”

     It was probably forty minutes before Jamie returned and gave a low whistle to let me know he was there.  Leika’s first response to seeing the big blue ball was wide-eyed skepticism, but when I had her sit on it, I could see her immediately relax.  Rather than lying on her side on the hard cement floor, resting on the bouncy blue ball allowed gravity to pull the baby’s head downward, speeding the effacing process, while supporting her hips.  I sat behind the ball and continued to massage her back.

     I’d been keeping track of her contractions, which seemed to be getting closer together and more intense.  Exchanging glances with Ralik I could see that she sensed a change as well.  And Leika, who had been chatting and laughing occasionally during the earlier part of labor, now seemed only to be able to rest between contractions, the volume of her moans increasing in intensity during the intense parts of the muscle spasms.

     When the time came to push, I instantly saw the benefit to the Marshallese habit of frequent squatting.  Assuming a squatting position, with a motherly figure under each arm to help support her weight, Leika silently began pushing.

      “Miss Peach,” she whispered.  I assumed that was a request to continue pressing against her back, so I sat on the ball behind her, leaning forward to rub her lower back, with a slight view over her shoulder of the midwife. 

     “Harder,” Leika breathed, so I leaned in to her, clenching my body and pressing against her with all my might, particularly during the contractions.

     Ralik and another auntie murmured words of encouragement to Leika, and within a matter of twenty more minutes, a slimy, squalling baby entered the world.  I was exhausted.

     I couldn’t tell its sex right away.  “Ej laddik im leddik?” I asked, trying to remember the words for “little boy” or “little girl.”

      “Ej leddik,” Ralik said, holding up the little girl.  I was stunned when with little fanfare, she handed the baby off to me, wrapped in a sheet.  Ralik returned to the work of massaging Leika’s abdomen to help her pass the afterbirth as I sat on my bouncy ball in surprise, staring at the squirming bundle in my arms.

     I had brought in some water and a washcloth, but didn’t want to shock the little thing, so I used the sheet to wipe off the blood and vernix from her skin.  She quickly started squalling, so I finished cleaning her as gently and quickly as I could.  The other women were still gathered around Leika, fully trusting me with this brand new being.  I found my eyes tearing up as I looked at her little wrinkled face, her scrunched-shut eyes, and her swath of black hair.  As I turned her over my arm to wipe off her back, I saw the dark blue bruise-like mark on her lower back—the Mongolian spot characteristic of dark-skinned babies.

     She was perfect, with long fingers and tiny toes.  Finished cleaning her, I asked one of the other women for a clean blanket, and then clumsily wrapped the baby up into a burrito, folding up the blanket over her feet, wrapping one side around her, and the rolling the other side tightly around as well, fighting against her little flailing arms.  Once she was swaddled, though, she was content and quiet.

     Distracted as I had been by this new little life, I had missed the rest of the process for Leika, but she had finished delivering the afterbirth, and they had lain her down on a mat to rest. 

     I laid the little bundle down on the mat next to Leika.  “Kōkaajiririk,” I suggested, gesturing toward her breast.

      “Ejjab,” said Ralik.  “Enana kain.” _No?  It was a bad thing?_   I couldn’t understand what they were trying to say.

     It took me a few false starts to discover that the women viewed colostrum, the first liquid secreted from the breasts, as harmful to new infants.  I had to take a deep breath and try to not instantly force my western view on them.  It was challenging to find the words in my dictionary, but finally I explained that doctors had tested the make-up of colostrum, and it had a lot of concentrated nutrients, plus a bit of a laxative effect to help the baby pass its first stool, all healthy, good things that a new baby needed.  The mothers looked at me skeptically, but Leika smiled weakly, bared her breast, and held her new little girl up for her first meal.

     I sat close, not wanting to muscle my way in front of the baby’s grandmother.  But when I asked Ralik if she wanted to sit down, she smiled and said no.  ‘Lots of grandbabies,’ she managed to express.  ‘You haven’t been at many births.’

     As I sat, I petted the precious head.  “Etan in?” I whispered.  “What will you call her?”

     Leika smiled up at me.  “Peach,” she said.  I couldn’t keep the tears from my eyes.

     After a few minutes, little Peach had stopped nursing and fallen asleep, and Leika looked exhausted.  She gestured for me to take the little one, so I gladly swept little Peach up in my arms, taking the blue exercise ball and placing it up against the wall, gently bouncing as I held Peach up against my chest.  She was so tiny, and she pulled her little legs up toward her torso like a tiny frog, so she fit from a spot under my chin just to my breasts.  Her snuffly little snore was so faint I could barely hear it, but it gave me comfort to feel her little chest expand and contract with every breath.  I closed my eyes, and with one hand under her little bum and the other hand on her back, cuddled that sweet new life, comforted by her warmth and the calming repetitive bouncing motion as I rocked her as she slept.

     The last time I’d been in a cement-floored home, holding a baby, it had been Maxson.  It was on my mind, but I did my best to put those thoughts out of my head, reveling instead in the simple joy of new life.

 

     It was in the early morning hours, just before dawn, that I crept into the house, changed into my pajamas, and slipped under the covers.  Without me there, Jamie had turned away from my side, and his back was to me. 

     I didn’t mean to, but I started to weep.  The whole walk back from Leika’s house, I felt like there was something missing, a little empty spot on my chest where a warm form had been sleeping, a place under my chin where the soft fuzz of baby hair had wisped up and caressed my skin.  It had been a while since I had that baby ache, that desire in the pit of my stomach at the sight of an infant, the pain in my heart at a baby’s cry.  This longing was even worse.  There was something wrong about laboring for hours, bringing new life into the world, and then leaving it behind. 

     A movement in the bed told me I’d woken Jamie.  He rolled over, but instead of letting him spoon me, I laid my head on his chest, and he wrapped his arms around me. 

      “Oh, Claire,” he murmured, kissing my wet cheek.  “Did Leika’s baby die?” he asked.

      “No,” I sobbed.  “She’s fine.  Leika’s fine.   It’s a beautiful little girl, and they named her Peach.  I just…” I hiccupped and sobbed, unable to finish my sentence.

      “Dinna fash, mo chridhe,” he said, whispering Gaelic into my hair as he stroked my shoulders and held me close to his heart.  “It’s okay to grieve what ye dinna have.  I’m here, love.  You can talk later.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've had this chapter done for a while (that's why the early posting today). This experience was mine. I never got pregnant; I never gave birth. My husband and I adopted our two boys, but that didn't remove that baby ache from my heart.
> 
> When my older sister gave birth to her third baby, she invited me into the delivery room with her. She had horrible back labor, so her husband pinched the pressure point on her hand, and I pressed against her lower back. It seemed like I was laboring right along with her; sometimes I held my breath during contractions and clenched my body right along with her. When my nephew arrived, it was apparent why labor had been so hard. The doctor caught him with an "Oomph!" and nearly dropped him. He was 10 lbs, 5 ounces!
> 
> After laboring with my sister, I held that precious little snuffly form on my chest for several hours while my sister slept. When I drove home, I felt a horrible loss. I had "labored," but I went home with empty arms.


	8. Iiokwe Eok (I Love You)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jamie takes a day off work.

     I did not sleep well. Several times in half-wakefulness I reached out, patting a small space on the bed next to me, becoming conscious with a devastating sense of loss that something was missing. I dreamed intense dreams of laboring, and woke up with my muscles clenched, my body sweating with the effort. After I fell asleep again, I dreamed of sitting with Jamie cradling me between his legs, my back against his chest, his arms surrounding me, letting me press against his hands as I pushed. And when the baby was born, she had wispy black hair, deep dark eyes, and mocha skin.

     In the pre-dawn hours I again woke, this time with the strange sense that my lower abdomen felt warm. I heard whispering behind me, and slowly became aware that Jamie’s arm was over my side. Instead of his hand gently cradling my right breast, though, which seemed to be the sleep posture he typically assumed when he was unconscious, his hand was splayed over my belly, his thumb brushing against my navel, his pinky nearly reaching my pubic bone.

     I attempted to keep my breathing slow and even as I listened to my husband whisper. “A Dhia…Ye promised children in days of old, Father. Abraham waited, and Hannah waited. Ye sent promises for yer own son to come, and even then Christ came as a babe. Chì thu a cridhe, Morair. My precious Claire was broken last night, devastated by the reminder of what she doesna have. Ye’ve done things far more impossible, and ye ken I’ve no asked for much...” His whispers changed into words I didn’t understand, so it must have been Gaelic. “O, Naomh, èisd ri mo ùrnaigh.”

     I felt like I was intruding on an intimate moment between a Man and his Maker, but yet I felt drawn to join Jamie, so I rolled over and tucked myself in the crook of his arm.

     “I’m sorry, lass,” Jamie whispered. “I didna mean to wake ye.” He pressed his lips to my hair, and stroked my back until I fell asleep again.

     When I finally awoke again, the light of day was creeping around the edges of our curtains. Jamie was still next to me in bed.

     “Jamie! Jamie!” I shook him by the shoulder. “It’s past nine! You’re late for school!”

     “Come back to bed, wee one,” he said. “Mayor Timisen is subbing for me. After ye went to Leika’s, I knew I wouldn’t sleep much. I asked him, and then went to school to write lesson plans. He’s going to tell the kids Majel legends and teach some history.”

     “So, you’re taking a day off work because you knew you wouldn’t sleep well?” I asked.

     “Well, that’s not all,” Jamie said, his gaze dropping. “I remembered that wi’ Maxson, ye were heartbroken after. I needed to make sure ye’d be okay.”

     “Hmm,” I grunted. “That’s sweet of you, but I still have to give Depo shots this afternoon.”

     “Aye,” Jamie said, “But ye ken we’ve been married such a short time.”

     “What’s today?”

     “The fourth,” Jamie answered.

     “And when did we get married?” I asked.

     Jamie grinned. “I thought it was the girl that was supposed to remember these things…it was November 10.”

     “Maybe not the girl so much as the virgin,” I said.

     “Maybe not the virgin so much as the one with a memory for dates,” Jamie retorted. “Ah, who am I kidding? It’s the virgin.”

     “Not anymore, though,” I said, diving under the sheets and making Jamie laugh.

     “Stop tickling me, woman!” he exclaimed. “It’s no fair that ye ken where I’m sens!....itive.”

     He grinned at me as I came out from the covers. “Ye seem happy today, Claire,” Jamie sighed. “Are ye truly okay? Do ye wish to talk about it?”

     “Maybe,” I said. “Shall we go for a walk on the beach? I feel like getting out of the house.”

     “Aye,” Jamie said. “I dinna think we have enough water in the shower, though. Let me draw water from the well and catchment while you boil some to warm up your shower.

     Jamie pulled on some shorts and headed outside with the five gallon buckets, while I started the pot of shower water on the stove and mixed up a batch of pancakes for breakfast. Because he was always heading out bright and early, we didn’t generally have much time for breakfast in the morning. I also set the kettle on another burner, and scooped some coffee grounds into the French press.

     In the light of day, the world did seem brighter. It had just been exhausting to be there with Leika, to labor along with her, to hold a precious new life, and yet to say goodbye at the end of laboring, to leave behind that warm bundle. I knew Jamie was going to want to talk about it, and I wasn’t sure what I would say.

     Jamie had a look of concern on his face as he came into the house with two big buckets of water. One he placed over where we kept our drinking and cooking water, and the other where we kept our well water for washing. “Can ye come wi’ me, Claire?” he asked. “I think it’s my imagination, but I need a second opinion.”

     I’d pulled on a sundress in anticipation of heading out to the shower, so I followed him out to the catchment, where he opened the little door and stepped aside for me to peek in.

     “Do you think the water level is dropping?” he asked. “I mean, doesn’t it look lower than it has been in a while?”

     “Yes, I think so,” I said, “but I haven’t really paid that much attention to the water level. And,” I met his eyes with a smile, “You have been absolutely lovely about getting the water for us most of the time.”

     Jamie’s forehead was wrinkled. “Well, I’ll have to keep my eye on it. I know we havena had a big rain since our honeymoon, so there’s no been much water feeding into it, but I ken we’re not using it _this_ fast.”

     As I turned away from the catchment, I caught my husband looking at my chest. He glanced to the left and right, then quickly kissed me and enthusiastically groped me at the same time.

     “Jamie,” I objected, “We’re in public!”

     “Ye arna wearing a bra,” he whispered, grinning. “And I dinna have to go to work.”

     I shook my head. “Usually I’d say yes,” I responded. “But I’m feeling kind of fragile this morning. Definitely later, though,” I finished, at the slight look of disappointment that passed over his face.

     After showers and breakfast there was still time before my afternoon clinic hours to get out of the house, so Jamie and I put on comfortable sandals and headed toward Jabo. We started out on the road, stopping in to see Leika and the new little one farther into Ine. Jamie cooed and talked to little Peach while I checked Leika and asked her a few questions, and he watched with rapt attention as I unbundled Peach and listened to her heart with my stethoscope, stroking her bitty leg and placing her tiny hand around his big index finger.

     “Aw, Ripālle, she’s so cute,” he murmured quietly, inspecting the perfect, tiny fingernails.

     When we left, he instinctively put his arm around me, and led me to the rocky ocean side beach, where few people put their homes. Because of that increased privacy, we were able to walk hand-in-hand in silence until we reached the Ine dock.

     We watched the fishermen at their work for a while, and then from there we picked our way further along the coastline until we’d rounded a corner and were out of the sight of any people at all.

     “Here,” Jamie said, reaching for my shoulder bag. He had stuck in his lightweight hammock and two straps, and he happily busied himself attaching the hammock to two coconut palms while I strolled along the rocky beach looking for undamaged shells.

     “Itok, Ripālle,” he said, finally. It made me smile to hear those familiar words from him. Several minutes of writhing, wiggling, and adjusting our positions, and we were cuddled together in the hammock, slightly swaying in the breeze, shaded by the trees, with a view of perfect blue skies and puffy clouds, and a sound track of the ocean waves lapping at the rocky shore.

     “Can you tell me about last night?” he said.

     “Labor was hard for Leika. Ralik and I used pressure points and massage to reduce her pain, but after hours of it, I felt like I’d labored right along with her. I’ve never been pregnant, but I’ve wanted to be. I’ve thought about having kids, and so it felt like I was laboring along with her. I was exhausted when the baby came. And then I held Peach for several hours while Leika slept. When I left, when I came home, it was the cold, empty spot on my chest, the feeling that there was something missing that got me to begin with. And I was exhausted, of course.”

     “We talked about children on our honeymoon,” Jamie said. “That seems to be one of yer deep heart desires, then, am I right?”

     “I get an ache in my stomach when I see a baby,” I said. “It feels like being homesick or lovesick, just that gut-aching longing.”

     Jamie squeezed me tighter. “That feeling I ken well, Ripālle.” He chuckled. “I feel it when I’m away from you, when I look at you. I felt it last night when you were on the bed instead of sitting by me talking to Jenny. I’m sorry about that, by the way.”

     “I can understand her reluctance to accept me,” I said, “and you did stand up for me.” I buried my face in his chest for a moment. “And you demonstrated your depth of feeling afterward, too.”

     Jamie laughed and I sighed, hearing the deep, familiar rumble against my ear.

     “Ye can see why I’m terrified of her, though,” he said. I nodded in agreement.

     We dropped into silence, but I could tell from the way Jamie did some almost-sentence-starts that he had something to say. I looked up at his face, and urged, “Go ahead. Ask me.”

     Brow furrowed, Jamie said, “So ye say you’re twenty-seven. That’s no very old at all when it comes to having children nowadays. Seems many people wait until they’re over thirty.”

     “True,” I replied, “but fertility decreases drastically with age.”

     “Now, ye are a nurse, so do ye ken much about, say, fertility treatments?”

     “A little. A woman can track her early morning temperature—that’s called the basal temperature—and when it spikes mid-cycle, that indicates ovulation. I also know that there are medications you can take if the woman _isn’t_ ovulating.”

     “And then, of course, there’s sex,” offered Jamie. He nodded teasingly. “I know about that, at least. That when a man loves a woman, he plants a little seed inside her, and it grows into a baby.”

     I cackled, and that started Jamie laughing. “Is that really all you were taught about sex?” I asked.

     “When I was eight and that was all I could handle,” Jamie said. “But my da had the real talk wi’ me when I was fourteen, I think. He told me everything.” I looked up, and Jamie was wrinkling his nose in disgust. “I didna want to think about him and Ma doing such a thing. I couldna look her in the face for days afterwards.” Jamie shuddered at the memory, and I giggled again.

     “If the fertility issues seem to be worse,” I continued, “there are treatments that become increasingly complicated and increasingly costly. Like artificial insemination or in vitro fertilization, for example.”

     “That doesna sound like any fun at all,” Jamie said. “But when the time comes and we decide to _try_ to get pregnant, versus not trying to not get pregnant…” I looked up at his face and took a moment to appreciate Jamie’s confusion as he sorted through the statement. “When that time comes, anyway, I’ll happily do my part—as difficult as it may be to be forced—to make love to ye frequently.” He said it completely seriously, but I could see the good-humored twinkle in his eyes.

     I laughed again.

     “As _many_ times as necessary,” he offered generously. “Day or night. Missionary position or…something else. Happy to contribute to the cause.” He giggled, a very unmanly sound, as I elbowed him in the ribs.

     “Seriously, though, Claire,” Jamie said, pulling me close. “If it matters to ye, we can make a concerted effort. I have faith that it can, that it’s no impossible.”

     I tried to decide whether to tell him or not. “I heard you praying for me this morning.”

     Jamie sighed, “I hope it didna upset ye. I dinna ken whether ye believe in it or not, but prayer helps me release the things I canna control to Someone bigger. And I felt it, when I touched you, the strong feeling that the two of us will have children in our lives.”

     I pulled myself upwards to kiss him on the lips, my eyes moist with tears. He stroked my cheek, and I closed my eyes, sighing at the comfort of connecting with him.

     “ _Now_ ye feel in the mood, Ripālle?” Jamie exclaimed, as I kissed him with more urgency. “Now that ye’ve made me think of my ma and da doing it? There’s no way in hell I’m getting an erection after those thoughts. And besides, we’re in _public_.” He mimicked my words from earlier, kissing me firmly, and urging me back to my position beside him.

     “But ye know, we do need to be realistic,” Jamie said solemnly. “If we arna able to get pregnant, do ye still think life together can be good?”

     “Oh, of course,” I said. “We could work, or continue to serve in the Peace Corps in other places.”

     “Like Africa,” Jamie said.

     “Or Central America,” I said.

     “Or the Islands of the Caribbean,” Jamie offered. “Haiti, the Dominican Republic, Puerto Rico, Cuba.”

     “Or just this island I’ve heard about, called Arno,” I whispered. “It’s in the Marshall Islands, and it’s beautiful. I hear it’s a simple life, but it’s a good one.”

     “Aye,” Jamie said. “Iiokwe Eok, Ripālle.”

     “I love you too,” I answered.

* * *

 **Chapter Notes:** When facing infertility, you do reach a point where you have to be okay no matter what happens. You have to decide how far you will go, how much you will spend, and when you’ll be “done” trying. It’s not an easy thing. I remember the realization that life could be good either way. It was sometime after making that decision that we ended up adopting our eldest son, who ironically is half-Samoan. I ended up with my own adorable little islander...


	9. Walk of Shame

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time to add to a list of "firsts" for Jamie.

     Jamie and I returned to the clinic in plenty of time for me to assemble my supplies for providing the Depo Provera shots.  Sharbella arrived a few minutes after we did, and I noticed as she walked toward me that I could _finally_ see her baby belly.  Since she was such a solid woman, she hadn’t yet begun to show. 

     Jamie poked his head through the clinic door.  “Since ye dinna need me, Claire,” Jamie said, “I think I’ll head up to the school and rescue Mayor Timisen for the afternoon.  D’ye think we can invite Rupert and Angus for dinner?  With fresh potatoes, carrots, and onions, we’d be making them _very_ happy.”

     I nodded in response, and watched Jamie’s retreating back a few seconds longer than necessary.

      “You love him bery much,” Sharbella said.  “Just like I love Pitar.  We are not as young anymore, but I remember looking at him like that when we first married.”

      “Aet,” I said, looking back at her.  I could feel that my emotions were quite close to the surface still, but as I began the task of giving contraceptive shots to a long line of women, I quickly got lost in the work, in trying to cause as little pain as possible, and trying to remember enough Marshallese to carry on little conversations with them.

      “Leika’s nin͂nin etan in Peach-ay!” was the most common phrase—“Leika’s baby was named Peach!” They were all delighted to hear that Peach had arrived safely.  Several of the young married women had apparently already visited the young mother, because they asked me about colostrum and why the ri-palles thought it was good for feeding newborns.  And I tried to put into words how amazing it had been to be present for a birth.  Sharbella smiled when I didn’t have to turn to her for translation, but it was still very nice to have her for the fast or low talkers, or when someone used words that I’d never heard before.

     I was able to close the clinic at around 4, which was perfect timing, as from one direction Jamie was coming down the road, and from the other direction, the pick-up was approaching.  I had barely remembered that it was Monday—mail day—when the truck pulled up and Abner brought me a plastic grocery bag of mail from Majuro.

 

     Jamie had been reading his letter from Murtagh, chuckling frequently.

      “Okay, babe, what’s so funny?” I asked. Currently I was in the kitchen dicing onion for soup for dinner, and Jamie was sitting at the kitchen table peeling potatoes as he glanced off to the side at Murtagh’s letter.  Paring potatoes with a knife took skill.  Paring potatoes with a knife while also reading a letter took Jamie.

      “So apparently when I drunk-taped Murtagh, I announced to him that you were giving me all the sorts of sex I missed by waiting until marriage.  He’s impressed.”

      “You did _what_?  And he’s _what_?”  I stared at him in disbelief, and Jamie grinned impishly back at me.

      “He’s my best friend, Claire.  My godfather.  Wi’ both of my parents gone, Murtagh stepped in.  And I’m honest with him.”

      “So what was so funny in his letter?”

     Jamie set down the knife and picked up the letter.

      “The most adventurous girl I was ever with was called Suzette.  She was a foreign exchange student from France.  Back in those days, a good Catholic girl might put her hand on you if she thought you might be married someday.  But that was generally the extent of it unless you actually got engaged, in which case, she felt a lot freer and more generous.” Jamie looked up and raised his eyebrows suggestively at me which made me laugh. “When I took Suzette up to my bedroom and she proceeded to put her mouth on me, I was stunned.  So stunned that when my wee sister Maggie walked in on us I couldn’t say a thing, not even tell Suzette to stop, until Mags screamed out, “Mam!!! Mam! Suzette is eating Murtagh!”

     I stepped behind his chair, running my hand across the contours of his chest as I leaned over and hugged him.  He turned to kiss me on the cheek.  “So,” I whispered.  “You’ve told Murtagh about your naughty wife.”

      “Ye arna naughty,” Jamie laughed.  “Sexy.  Generous.”

      “Ah, but you told him my plan?”

      “Aye,” he admitted.  “Ye’d no idea that you created such a sense of anticipation for the future, had ye?”

      “I think I realized what I’d done,” I said, “But I think I got distracted somewhere along the way, and I’ve neglected your education,” I nibbled his earlobe, which made Jamie squirm and chuckle.

      “So what part of my education have I missed?” Jamie asked.  “What college sex-before-marriage experience have I not had yet?”

      “Well, condoms, for one thing,” I said.

      “Huh,” Jamie grunted.  “Sounds like one of the less fun parts of not waiting.  I’ve heard ye canna feel as much.”

      “Honestly, _most_ of what’s left are the less pleasant things,” I stated.

      “Like what?”

      “Well, we’ve already had silent single bed sex.”  I counted that as the first item on my fingers.

      “About that,” Jamie said sheepishly.  “Um, Rupert and Angus have banned us from ever going into my bedroom again.” He answered the question in my eyes by wrinkling his nose and nodding.

      “I really tried hard to be quiet,” I sighed.

      “And ye did really, _really_ good,” Jamie said, encouragingly.  “Until the _very_ end.”

     I scoffed, moving to sit next to him on the bench.

      “So, what are the other bad parts?” Jamie said.  “I still might find them interesting.”

      “Sneaking a person into your room to have sex, condoms, and the Walk of Shame.”

      “The walk of shame?” Jamie asked.

      “You know, when you spend the night with someone and you walk back to your dorm room in the morning still wearing last night’s party clothes.  Messy hair, smeared makeup.”

      “Is it a walk of shame for men?” Jamie asked curiously.  “Or is it a Strut of Pride?  I dinna think there’s much shame in it for a lad.  I think I felt more embarrassment over being a virgin at my age.”

      “Yeah, I guess it’s not a walk of shame for guys as much,” I admitted.

      “I can see that.  Even on our wedding night, I think you were embarrassed to go out and greet the crowd, weren’t you? But I wasna ashamed.  I was proud.  I felt manly, virile.”  Jamie bit his lip.  “There certainly are still gender stereotypes  and judgments around sex, aren’t there?”

      “Unfortunately.  Women who like sex get labeled ‘nymphomaniacs’ or ‘sluts.’  Guys who like sex get called…guys.”

      “Huh,” Jamie grunted again, frowning.  “That isna right, is it?”  He cocked his head and looked at me.  “Maybe men are afraid of women who like sex because they think they canna satisfy them.”

      “Hmm.  Are you afraid of me?” I asked. 

     He wrinkled his nose at me and leaned to kiss me.  “Not too much,” he joked, grinning. 

     I scooped up the potatoes that Jamie had peeled and took them over to the cutting board to dice them before tossing them in the pot.  With a few carrots, the potatoes, dried noodles, and a few chicken boullion cubes, the soup was complete save for the chicken, which I liked to add later in the process, since it was canned.  I had found that canned chicken worked reasonably well for soup; certainly fresh would have been preferable, but without a refrigerator, chicken was really only feasible for a fiesta or a large family.  The two of us wouldn’t have been able to eat a whole bird before it went bad.

      “Do you need me to do anything else, Claire?” Jamie asked.  “I was thinking of writing back to Murtagh.” 

      “No, go ahead and write him,” I responded.  “The scone mix only takes a few minutes to prep for the oven.  What time are Angus and Rupert coming?”

      “I think they said 5:30,” Jamie responded.  “Though the promise of a meal cooked by their favorite ri-pālle might have them following their stomachs here sooner.”

     The scones were just coming out of the oven when the Scots announced themselves with a loud stampede of steps outside our door.

      “Are you decent?” Rupert joked.  “We dinna want to see or hear anything disgusting!”

      “Speak for yerself,” I heard Angus retort.  “It’s been so long since I’ve seen a nude woman I’m beginning to feel like propositioning the local grandmas.”

     I opened the door with a smile.  “Everyone here is fully clothed.  Come on in.”

 

     When we sat down to eat, it pleased me to see the boys bow their heads for grace, which Jamie said after grabbing my hand.  I’d grown up saying grace before meals, but had fallen away from it in my college years.  A moment of thanks before a meal was a comforting exercise in gratitude, and I had increasingly noticed myself stopping in simple moments to just feel thankful.

     The first few minutes were consumed with very little talk and much more serving, slurping, and munching. 

      “Delicious, Claire,” Rupert mumbled around a mouthful of scone.  “In Scotland, we call these bannocks.  ‘Scones’ is so English.”

      “In America, I’m more likely to make muffins than scones,” I said.

      “I’ll bet your muffin is delicious,” Angus said, leering at me, which made Jamie reach across the table and whap him on the arm.

      “Dinna talk to my wife like that,” he said.  Angus grinned at me in response.  All I could do was shake my head and roll my eyes.  By now, I was quite used to Angus’s dirty mind.

      “What do you think we should do about Lọjet and Tulọk?”  Angus asked the other two men.

      “What should you do about _the ocean_ and _the sunset_?” I asked, confused by his insertion of Marshallese words into his sentence.

      “The Ainrick kids have been sick,” Rupert explained.  “Their family likes nature names for their children.  Lọjet—‘ocean’—is in eighth grade and Tulọk—‘sunset’—is in third.  The girls have missed several days, and their brother Alworin—”

      “Which means ‘parrotfish,’” interjected Jamie.

      “Said he didn’t think they’d be well enough to come tomorrow.”

     Jamie furrowed his forehead, as he took another scone.  “Maybe you should visit them, make sure everything is okay, and take them their work.  I know that Alworin said they were sick, but if they’re not coming to school for some other reason, maybe you can figure that out.”

      “That’s probably true,” Angus responded, ladling out another bowl of soup for himself.  “Shall we head to Matolen after school tomorrow, then?”

      “Aye,” said Rupert, eyeballing his stomach before sheepishly grabbing another scone.  “We dinna want to let them get too far behind.”

 

     For the last hour of Rupert and Angus’s visit, Jamie and I were eyeing each other greedily.  We’d been together Sunday afternoon, but other than the enforced celibacy during my period, Jamie’s sexual rhythm tended to the 12-18 hour range, and we were currently approaching thirty hours.  I’d been tired and emotional, and then we’d been derailed by Jamie’s thoughts of his parents’ sex life, then distracted by mail and meal prep and guests.  Angus and Rupert started side-eyeing each other, especially when Jamie seemed to be unable to keep his hands away from me. 

      “Ye disgust me,” Rupert snuck in one last shot as they headed out the door.  “Ye have absolutely no self control whatsoever.”

      “And yer getting _verra_ close to disgusting me, too,” said Angus.  “Ye dinna feel like putting on a show, do ye?  I wish you still had your old curtains…”

      “You are nasty,” I groaned, as Jamie glared and pushed Angus out the door.  He turned back to me as he locked the door knob.

      “God, Claire, it’s time,” Jamie said, flipping off the light as we both started peeling off our clothes.  We had just fallen onto the bed in the darkness, when Jamie interrupted our kiss.  “Hey, I just had a thought.  I bet we could take care of condoms and sneaking at the same time.”

      “Really?” I responded skeptically, in no mood at all to be distracted.  Jamie rolled off of me, and we made an effort to get beneath the covers, as the evening breeze had chilled the apartment significantly.

      “Aye.  And I’ve got the perfect situation.  If Angus and Rupert are going to Matolen after school tomorrow to check on the Ainricks and take them homework, they’ll be away from their apartment for an hour or more.  If you met me after school, we could break into the apartment (if they were crazy enough to lock it) and take a condom with us.”  He sounded giddily excited.

      “Tomorrow afternoon?” I asked skeptically.

      “At three o’clock.  Would you meet me?”

      “If you want to,” I said.  “But first, are you really willing to risk making Angus and Rupert mad?  And do you really want to have sex in a twin bed again?  A single bed is not big enough for the both of us.”

      “It is if I’m thrustin’ on top of you,” Jamie teased huskily, burying his face in my neck.  In response I succumbed to a whole-body shiver.

     He reached out for me, and I scooted away with a sudden, evil urge.  “I just thought of something else to add to your list.”

      “And what’s that?” Jamie asked, his hands persisting in seeking me in the darkness.

      “Being de-NIED!” I exclaimed, giggling as I wiggled away from him.  “Having to WAIT!” 

     After a few seconds I heard him laugh as he withdrew his hands.  “Aye, I can roll wi’ that,” he said.  “It’ll just make sneaking around tomorrow feel more desperate and exciting.”

     Then it was my turn to laugh.  “Do you _really_ think you can do without? Other than during my period, it's been at _least_ once a day.”  I asked.

      “Watch me,” said Jamie.  “I am a _master_ of self-control.”

     Jamie wasn’t lying about being a master of self control—while he was _awake,_ that is.  Sleep-Jamie, however, had a mind of his own, which appeared to be centered in his pelvis.  Several times through the night, Jamie woke up to find his body attempting to arouse me.  Each time he chuckled sheepishly, said, “Sorry, lass,” and rolled over to go back to sleep.

 

     The next afternoon at around two-thirty, I was shaking my head in disbelief as I grabbed two condoms from the box, stuck them in my shoulder bag, and headed down the road toward the school.

     “Miss Peach-ay!” As I was passing their little blue house, Adina called out from her yard. “Lale Lakatu’s nem,” she said when I approached.

      “What’s wrong with Lakatu’s leg?” I asked in response.

      “Wōt,” she said simply _.  A boil_.  This did not figure into my afternoon plans, but I always had my basic medical supplies with me.  I bathed the little boy’s leg, which looked angrily infected, applied topical ointment, and suggested Adina bring Lakatu to the clinic the next morning so we could take care of the boil in a more sterile environment.

     It took some effort to kindly refuse her hospitality and offers of food, but finally I headed down the road again.  As I approached the Peace Corps school, I could see Jamie out in the middle of the path in front of the school building.

      “What took ye so long, Ripālle?” he hissed as I joined him.  He looked both ways, then grabbed me by the hand and led me around the school building to the apartment entrance, where I stood watch.

     Within seconds, he turned back to me from the door in bewildered surprise.  “They never lock their door!” he exclaimed, pausing for a moment as he decided what to do next.  I followed him to the window of his former room, where he was able to quickly remove the screen.  I continued to shake my head in disbelief as he removed the louvers one by one until there was enough space to boost me through.  Then as I crept through their apartment to unlock the door, Jamie replaced the louvers and screen, and met me at the door.

     We were giggling, hearts pounding, when we finally had retreated to Jamie’s room.

      “This is silly,” I said.  “Do you really want to do this?”

      “It’s been over forty-eight hours since I was wi’ ye, Claire.  I’m desperate.  I’m about to explode.  I dinna want to walk a mile before I can have you.  Christ, you’re gorgeous!”

     It took me a few minutes to locate the condoms in the bottom of my bag, which I did as Jamie was quite effectively removing my clothing.  Jamie’s desperation reminded me of our first few days of marriage, when foreplay was anything but slow and gentle, when I felt man-handled but sweetly desired.

      “Oh, Claire, I dinna want to use a condom,” Jamie breathed.  I could tell he was about to give up on the whole reason we were on this creepy sheets-free single bed in Angus and Rupert’s house, but I was stubbornly going to make him go through with it.

      “Fuck that,” I said.  “You’re getting the whole experience!  The “desperate-to-get-in-and-I-really-don’t-want-to-have-to-have-safe-sex” experience.  You get that condom and you put it on _now_.”

      “Are ye going to help me?” he asked as he sat on the side of the bed and reached for the condom package.

      “No,” I responded, nearly choking on my laughter at the look on Jamie’s face.  First, he struggled to open the package and accidentally dropped the slippery circle on the floor.  When he’d opened the second one, he had one false start before he realized which side needed to face up in order to unroll it onto himself.

      “I am _never_ writing about this to Murtagh,” Jamie grumbled, as he climbed on top of me.  I quickly recognized that old sensation of something other than flesh against me, and I could see on Jamie’s face that he didn’t much care for it either.

      “Why would anyone choose this?” he said.

      “Exactly,” I responded.  “Which is why sexually transmitted diseases are such an issue.”

      “This is _not_ a sexy conversation,” Jamie grinned, wrinkling his forehead in concentration.  “And I can barely feel ye at all. . . Jab kōnono.”

      “Stop talking?” I said, giggling again.  “You may as well just figure this time is only for you.  Cause this is _totally_ not going to work for me.  You’re going to owe me one tonight.”

      “Would it be better if you were on top?” Jamie asked, trying to reposition us, and in the process almost dropping me on the floor.  We laughed as we got back on the bed.

      “Didn’t you lock the door, Angus?”  The faint voice came through the door.

     Jamie and I froze, wide-eyed, looking at each other, as we suddenly realized that Rupert and Angus were already home.

      “Could swear I did,” we heard Angus reply.  “I’m absolutely sure about it, because I turned around and checked the door knob, too.”

     Jamie put his hand over my lips, shook his head, closed his eyes, and then looked like he was completely concentrating.  I tried to focus enough to make it fun for him, but it was pretty much a lost cause for me and I was grateful when he finished.

      “That was okay…but really, actually pretty awful,” he whispered.  “I dinna ever want to do it like this again.  What do we do now?”

      “Get dressed.  And then leave,” I responded. 

     We got dressed as quickly as possible, and with one final look of horror at each other, we opened the bedroom door and marched through the apartment, not looking to either side, and definitely not making eye contact with either of Jamie’s dumbstruck cousins.

      “Ifrinn naomh!” exclaimed Rupert at our retreating backs.

      “What the hell?” said Angus.

      “I will never forgive you!” I heard Rupert shout as we closed the door to the apartment.

     Jamie and I walked in silence for several minutes.  Finally, Jamie spoke. 

      “I was wrong,” he muttered, grinning sheepishly.  “It _is_ a walk of shame for guys, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Notes:  
> Ridiculous and silly...  
> So, This is the sixth chapter I've posted this week, crazily enough.  
> This "posting frenzy" was fun, but I've got to get things done at home.  
> During this next "hiatus" I will plan the trip to Guam. I would like to see Claire and Jamie through pregnancy and several other key experiences I've wanted to include.


	10. Drop the Chocolate and Run

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The next few chapters are going to be in a slightly random order. This was supposed to happen before the Field Ship, but I didn't get it written until today. It's adorbs... :)
> 
> I'll put them in correct order after a few days--just know she hasn't left on her trip yet.

     It was just one of those mornings.  I got all the way undressed in the shower before I realized that not only had I left the pot of hot water in the house, Jamie was currently out on a morning jog so he couldn’t bring it to me.  Getting into the shower the second time I was in such a rush that I stubbed my toe on the cement pad, so my toe was stinging the whole time I was pouring water over myself.  In addition, I was running out of conditioner, so my hair was a tangled mess even after I’d showered; trying to pick out my curls was painful and all I ended up with was a frizzy mass.  I gave up, throwing on my sundress so I could head inside.

      “Good morning, Ri-pālle,” Jamie sang, kissing me on the forehead and grabbing my butt as I exited the shower and he entered it.

      “Don’t do that,” I whined irritably, certain I saw Metao through the trees. 

     Jamie looked surprised at my reaction, mumbling “Oh, sorry!” as he cocked his head and looked at me in confusion.

     When I was making breakfast, the oatmeal boiled over and put out the flame of the burner, which made the propane flow for a while before I noticed the sickly-sweet smell of gas. In the meantime, the oatmeal had been sitting in slowly cooling water.  I started the burner again to cook the oatmeal the rest of the way, but when it was done it was a gummy mess.

     Everything seemed to be going wrong, and I just didn’t seem to be able to take it in stride.  After the third time I descended into foul-mouthed cursing of the stove, the pot, the oatmeal, and each item’s parents, Jamie looked at me with concern as he stood by his dresser.  He wore boxer briefs, had pulled on a fitted tee shirt, and was wrapping the sarong around his hips.  He looked _really_ good.

     Jamie looked at me curiously.  “Are ye feeling all right, Claire?” he asked.

      “This morning sucks,” I answered, but I saw a way for it to get better.  I put my arms around him, looked up at him beguilingly, and grabbed his ass, pulling his pelvis firmly towards me. “But do you have a few minutes?”

      “Sorry, lass,” he responded, grimacing slightly.  “I didna get everything ready for school, so I need to grab my parritch and eat as quickly as I can, then head to the school.”

      “Not even a quickie?  Just, like, ten minutes?” I wheedled.

      “I’m sorry, Claire, but I dinna even want a quickie.  I’m too distracted,” Jamie said earnestly, patting my back in a way that was affectionate but _entirely_ non-sexual.  “My mind’s already sorting through the things I need to finish when I get to the school.  I think I may actually jog there so I can get started.”

     I felt crushed.  _When do I ever say no to you?_ I thought, glaring at him and pulling away.  I went into the kitchen, slopped a ladle-full of oatmeal into a bowl, and shoved it into Jamie’s hands, stomping outside to go to the outhouse (even though I didn’t really have to go).  When I sat down on the toilet, I burst into tears.  “What the fuck is wrong with him?” I sobbed to myself.  “Since when does he say no to me?”  I finally went ahead and peed, only to discover that there was no toilet paper in the stall.  “Again?” I wailed. “Why are people always stealing my toilet paper?”  I covered my face with my hands and cried.

     _I’m tired of drawing water from the well!  I want a hot bath!  I want to watch TV.  Curl up on a real couch.  Go out to a restaurant.  I want_ … _Frank_ , I almost said.  But that would have been a lie.  _I want Jamie to want me like he did when we first got married.  I want him to grab me, take me.  I need to get **fucked**.  Hard. I need to forget everything.  I just need to feel good for ten damn minutes.  Is that so much to ask?_

     I sat long enough to drip dry, on the one hand hoping that Jamie would be gone by the time I got back into the house, on the other hand wishing that he’d changed his mind and would be waiting for me, naked and ready, with a fiery look of desire in his eyes.

     I was disappointed on my return to an empty house, and I felt such a raging sexual hunger that I took care of myself.  It was an empty release, but I took bitter pleasure in it.  “Damn you, Jamie Fraser,” I said.  “You have no idea how lucky you are, you little shit.”

     I put on a happy face for my patients, but my irritability affected Sharbella, who I scolded for coming too late.

      “I’m sorry, Miss Peachay,” she said sincerely.  “I just couldn’t sleep well last night.  It was so hot and still, and the niñnin makes me hot to begin with.  The children let me sleep and got themselves ready for school, so I accidentally overslept.”

     Of course, then I felt like a bitch and apologized, but the damage had already been done.  Sharbella was much more subdued after that.

     Right around lunch time a flash of orange and blue ran by outside the clinic.  Just the sight of him made my heart race.  I tried to hide my smile and focus, but I was relieved at the thought that Jamie had come home, and we could squeeze in some together time.  It wasn’t like me to be this sensitive or him to be this disconnected.

     I finished up with my last patient, apologized thoroughly to Sharbella and shared my effusive gratitude that she was there to help me daily.  Then I locked the door of the clinic and quickly walked around the corner to our apartment.

     When I entered the apartment, I was confused.  The lights were off, and with the black-out curtains closed I had to wait a moment for my eyes to adjust to the darkness. 

      “Where are you, Jamie?” I called out quietly, walking through the kitchen toward our bed.  I couldn’t hear him, but with each step my anticipation grew.  I paused for a moment to pull off my dress and drop it carelessly on the floor.  I made my way over to his side of the bed, reaching down…

     And I felt _nothing_.  I reached further, patting the bed.  Jamie wasn’t on my side either.   

      “Hey, babe,” I said.  “Can you have a little pity on me? I’m not really in a mood to come find you.”

     Silence.

      “Jamie?” I said.  “Come on, now.  This is just mean.”

     Not a sound.

     I reached over and pulled the curtain out enough to illuminate the room.  There weren’t many places a 6-foot-4-inch-tall guy with bright red hair could hide, and I very quickly determined that Jamie was not in our apartment at all.

     By then I was questioning my eyes, if not my sanity.  Hadn’t I seen Jamie come running by just minutes ago?  Confusion lent itself very well to bitterness.  As I grabbed my dress and pulled it back on, I started fuming inwardly.  _He doesn’t think my needs matter?  Let’s see how he feels when sex is off the table for the next three days.  That’ll teach him to say no to me!_

     I stepped outside the house, looking one way down the road and then the other.  No sign of red hair or blue sarong, but a little old bubu was walking by.

      “Did you see?— _kwaar lo ke_ Mister Shamie?” I asked her.

      “ _Ayet_ ,” she nodded, smiling and showing the spaces between her teeth.  She gestured behind her toward Ine.  “ _Lallap etal ñan Ine_.” (Lall up eh tall ngon EE-nay)  Lallap meant “big boy” and the rest of the phrase meant he was going toward Ine when she saw him.

      “Kommool,” I said, as she grinned back at me and then hobbled down the road. She’d seen Jamie, at least.  I was glad I wasn’t going crazy.  But why would he be going to Ine?

     We still needed lunch, so I tossed a can of soup into a pot and started it heating, while I spread faux cheese on a couple of ship biscuits.  _Goodness!_ I thought, grimacing at the bright orange Squeez Cheez glopped on the thick crackers. _What I wouldn’t do for a grilled cheese sandwich made from artisan sourdough bread oozing with cheddar cheese and a browned butter crust_. I groaned.

     Jamie hadn’t arrived by 12:30, so I sat down at our table and ate my soup and crackers, stewing.  By 12:45, I had eaten Jamie’s crackers, too.  By 12:55 I had rinsed my bowl out and was pacing agitatedly back and forth through the house.  He hadn’t packed a lunch, dammit.  He was supposed to come _home_.

     When Jamie hadn’t come at 1:00, suddenly I lost it.  “He doesn’t love me anymore,” I wept, curling up in a ball on our bed, hugging his pillow to my chest.  _I’m just too grumpy, and he thinks I’m ugly with this horrible hair.  And I’ve ruined everything and he’s never going to want to have sex with me again and I hate Arno and I want my mommy and I…_

     I woke up an hour later with drool crusted at the corner of my mouth, still curled up with the pillow, but now sweating in the mid-day heat.  I splashed some water on my face and went to the clinic, but no one was waiting, and no one had knocked or left a note.  And Jamie _still_ had had not come home.

     He hadn’t come home by four, either.  I was trying hard to be reasonable, but this was testing the limit of my patience. 

     Jamie bounced in the door at 4:47, all smiles.  I remembered both the time and his expression, because I looked at the clock when he came in, and I saw the exact second the smile melted from his face.

      “Why, Claire, what’s wrong?” he asked. 

      “ _Where_ _have you been_?” I asked the question crisply.

      “I needed to go to the store, so I wasna able to come home for lunch.  And I graded because I wanted to leave everything at school.”

     I heard a racket outside our door, some strange metallic thumping, grumbling, and gravel.  With a look of concern still on his face, Jamie turned away and opened the door, and in came the back side of Rupert, followed by a long metal tub and the front side of Angus.

      “Where do you want it?” Rupert grumbled.

      “Just…there…” Jamie pointed toward the pantry.

      “So you promise to do our laundry next week for the trouble of lugging this thing down here?” Angus wiped sweat from his forehead and swiped the loose hairs back up into his bun.

      “Aye,” said Jamie.  “Thanks.”  He kept his eyes on me and ushered them out the door.

      “Dinna you want us to help lug some water?” Rupert said. 

     Jamie broke his gaze.  “Yes, that’s right.”  Jamie looked around the kitchen, grabbed the biggest pots we had, stuck them on the stove top and poured in the water from the wash and drinking buckets.  He handed those buckets off to Rupert.  “Angus, you could grab the two buckets in the shower,” he suggested, with a faint gesture in that direction.

     When Angus and Rupert had left, I turned to Jamie.  “What is all of this?”

      “Dinna fash,” he said with a small shake of his head.  “Let’s talk when they’re gone.”

     Four buckets of water filled the tub half way, and Jamie shooed the Scots off without having them refill the empty buckets.  “Thanks for your help.  I’ll take it from here,” he said, shepherding them toward the door.

      “Feel better, lass,” said Rupert, while Angus took a long look at the tub, followed by a hungry gaze at me.  Rupert rolled his eyes and pulled Angus out the door.

     Jamie waited for the sound of them departing before he turned back to me.  His shoulders seemed squarer, and a half-smile played about his lips.

      “Again,” I repeated.  “ _What_ is all of this?”

      “Ye seemed to be having a hard morning,” Jamie said.  “And I felt bad that I didna have time for you.  So I wanted to do something kind.  And, I thought, one of the things you’ve missed is a bath.”

      “How are we going to empty this gigantic tub?” I asked skeptically. 

     Jamie took a step toward me.  “Let me worry about that,” he said. “But, shall I prepare it now for ye, or not?”

      “Well, I guess so,” I said sullenly, watching as Jamie turned the burners on.

      “I brought you something,” Jamie said, pulling a small paper sack from his backpack.  He unwrapped it carefully and brought whatever it was to the kitchen table where I had been sitting.  He held his hand out to me and then I saw…two candy bars—one Hershey’s milk chocolate, and one Hershey’s dark chocolate.

      “What?” I asked.  “ _Why_?”  I still felt grumpy, but just the sight of chocolate made me feel different.  I got up and was about to give him a hug when I asked, “Why a bath?  Why chocolate?”

      “Well,” Jamie looked down at his feet for a second, and then met my eyes.  “This is totally how Janet and my mum acted when they were close to their menstrual cycles, and I ken that chocolate and a bath always made them feel better.”

     I stared at him dumbly for a second while I calculated dates in my brain.  It seemed a little early, but I knew he was right.  Somehow it still made me mad, though.  “Never say ‘ _menstrual’_ again,” I hissed. 

     Jamie cocked his head at me. “Why dinna ye like the word ‘menstrual’, Ri-pālle?” he asked, an impish smile on his face.  “ _Menstrual_ doesna seem like a horrible word to me. Now, _menstru **ation**_ — _that’s_ a less pleasant word.”

     I socked him in the arm, which barely made him wince, so I punched him again.  He grabbed my fist with one hand, stroking my arm with the other.

     Jamie’s eyes were crinkled at the corners, and he wore a ridiculous smile that he couldn’t wipe off his face.

 

      “Why are you fucking smiling at me?” I seethed.

      “Ri-pālle, ye seem to forget that I kent what comes along wi’ a woman, and I chose it anyway.”

      “What do you mean?”

     He stepped hesitantly toward me, turned me away from him, and wrapped his arms around my torso.  _Over_ my arms, I noticed, so he could keep me from hitting him.

      “Most of my grown life, I’ve looked forward to having a woman in it.  I knew I wanted to be married, and I anticipated the day.  But I entered marriage wi’ my eyes wide open.  I knew I’d get lusciously round boobs _and_ occasional irrationality.” He gently moved his hand to cup my breast, then traveled down my side to trace my hip and squeeze my butt. “I kent that the wife I chose would have comforting curves, but that she might also be as prickly as a thistle.”  He kissed my hair, returning his arm to hug me again. 

     He was rocking me back and forth now, his breath seeping through my hair, his muscular chest slowly expanding and contracting behind me—except when it leapt in laughter, amused as he was by his own cleverness.

      “I knew that when I married, my wife might be _both_ an adorable angel with a sweet honeypot AND a vindictively evil banshee that could castrate me at a moment’s notice.” He nearly hiccupped with laughter. 

     If I hadn’t been back to adoring him when he pronounced boobs as “buubs,” his silly giggle was the tipping point.  I turned around and buried my face in his chest.

      “I have the perfect plan for this evening,” Jamie said.  “You read, and I’ll make supper.  And after we eat, it’s bath, backrub, and bed.”

      “You’re coming with me, though, right?” I asked.

      “Maybe even several times,” Jamie joked, pulling me to him and kissing me on the forehead.  “But ye shouldna talk about it now, or I might no be able to wait through dinner, and seeing ye naked and covered in bubbles, _and_ giving ye a massage.”

      “Well, I’m not exactly in the mood to wait,” I said. I took his hand and pulled him toward the bed.

      However, Jamie resisted being directed.  I turned back to look at him.  “My da used to say it was important for the man to always have the last word in a marriage,” he said. 

      “Really?”  I asked.  He was still grinning cheekily, so I waited for the punchline.

      “Of course," Jamie smiled.  " _Yes, ma’am!”_

 

**[Sam Heughan says "buubs"](http://ytcropper.com/cropped/Bw5a9dd0621d2b7) **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know about anyone else, but when I'm pms-y, not only am I super moody and grumpy, I'm super horny. And those things don't go together very well! :) Picking fights doesn't tend to lead to love-making...


	11. Drought

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The catchment is leaking, and Claire's feeling weepy.
> 
> Filling in some essential plot points. This occurs after Claire's cranky irritability in Drop the Chocolate and Run and before Dougal radios in Field Ship.

**_[Purchase the revised, greatly improved version of book one as a paperback or on Kindle!](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Ftinyurl.com%2FIsland-fever-2018&t=NTkxMWZmMjM4N2EwZmMyMjc1YzY2YWM5YWJhYzM2MGQ3MWI4YjNjMCxEMnNHeU15eg%3D%3D&b=t%3ApBABLT-VvOvXHhVWaraIIg&p=https%3A%2F%2Fbetweensceneswriter.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F174134224417%2Fif-loving-you-sarong-i-dont-want-to-be-right-if&m=1) _ **

* * *

     I peeked into the catchment as I drew water for the kitchen. It made me nervous that Jamie thought it was lower than it should have been; the thought of the leak was bad enough. At the same time I knew we hadn’t had rain in several weeks, so my plants were not happy.  I had to make sure to draw water from the well to keep the soil wet especially as sand didn’t hold in moisture very well.  Despite my parents’ suggestions, I yet hadn’t gotten chickens or pigs to provide the manure that would help enrich the soil.

    Walking back to the house, I glanced out toward the iar and was again taken aback by the paradise in which I lived.  There were clouds in the sky but they were high clouds, puffy and white, showing no promise of rain.  

[Originally posted by surphile](https://tmblr.co/ZvfRHt2743vR3)

    I didn’t want to forget to enjoy my beautiful island home, so after I set the water bucket down in the kitchen, I grabbed my journal and writing supplies plus a letter or two I meant to reply to, picked up my mat, and strolled out to a shady spot with a view of the lagoon, the smooth turquoise water, and the islands on the far side of the atoll. I smoothed out my mat next to a coconut tree leaning at the perfect angle for a back rest and sat down, relishing the shade and the slightly cooler air coming off the  _iar_.

    One of the people I needed to write to was Ashley, my college roommate.  She was a junior when I was a freshman, so she was 29 now.  She and her boyfriend Jason had been planning on getting married sometime; there wasn’t any rush as they’d only met a year ago.  

    But this week I’d gotten a letter from her.  They were bumping up their wedding date.  Ashley apologized that I wouldn’t be able to be there, but she couldn’t hold in the joy when she told me why.   She was pregnant.  

    I felt happy for her.  Really, I did.  But that didn’t stop the tears from dripping off my eyelashes as I wrote her back, struggling to express congratulations without seeming bitter or jealous.

    “Hey there, Love!”  I stiffened as Jamie’s voice told me that he’d arrived home from school earlier than I expected.  

    I hastily tried to wipe my eyes and act like everything was fine, but it was no use. When he came close, he could tell instantly.

    He’d already experienced the first stage of my menstrual mood swings with the previous days’ irritability.  Now I’d move on to the second stage—weepiness. And of course, the worst thing anyone can do when you feel teary is be empathetic. “What’s wrong, hen?” he asked.  

    I choked back a sob and shook my head. “It’s nothing,” I insisted, but Jamie ignored my excuses, sat down by me on the mat and put his arms around me.

    “It’s alright,  _Mo chridhe_ ,” he whispered against my hair.

[Originally posted by bonnie-wee-swordsman](https://tmblr.co/ZO9NTh2SqyoSz)

    “God, Jamie, what did I do before I had you?”  I curled into him, leaning my legs onto his.  “Thank you for understanding, but I feel so bad that I’m so emotional.” I sniffled.  

    He scoffed. “It makes you feel  _bad_  that your husband found you crying and wants to comfort you?”

    “What if you fall out of love with me because you realize what a weepy basket case I am?”

    “Well, now,” Jamie said, “It seems to me that when we decided we would really get married, we determined that you could take care of me when I was sick, and I could hold you when you were sad.”

    “It really doesn’t bother you?”

    “No, it doesn’t,” he answered.  I looked up at his face to see if he was lying to me, expecting to see disgust or disrespect in his eyes.  Instead I saw the same twinkle of affection, and he leaned forward to kiss me on the forehead.

    I leaned my head against his shoulder and pressed myself even tighter to him. “I don’t deserve you,” I said, the words sticking in my throat.

    “Deserve me?” He couldn’t keep the twinge of amusement from his voice.

    “This is too good, Jamie, isn’t it? It can’t last, not like this…”

    “Of course it can,” Jamie insisted, pulling away from me to look at my face.  “I’ve  _seen_  it.”

    “But your mom, she was happier than me, wasn’t she?”  I looked up in time to see Jamie smile in amusement and shake his head.

    “Maybe she didna cry as much, but she could be a fierce harpy,” he chuckled.  “My ma and da wouldn’t always agree.  They could fight somethin’ fierce.  But they made up just as passionately, til Jenny and Willie and I would start groaning and beg them to go to their room.”  He winced. “But if they obeyed us and went to their bedroom, then  _they_  would start groaning.  We would hear it, too.  The moaning and panting…”

    He looked at me curiously.  “Were  _you_  aware of that part of your parents’ lives?”

    “ _Ew_ ,” I grimaced.  “My parents like each other well enough, but when I was growing up they were affectionate with us but kept their own affection and their sex life pretty well under wraps.”

    “Hmm,” Jamie said lightly, a slight wrinkle to his forehead. “I’m a bit surprised, is all.”

    “Why is that?”

    “They’re so affectionate, and you’re so…”

    “I’m what?” I asked, unsure how he’d intended to end the sentence.

    He bent to me and kissed me gently on the neck, triggering an inadvertent squeak on my part.

    “Simply that my parents weren’t nearly as loud as  _you_ are **,”**  Jamie kidded.  “Our kids are going to be utterly disgusted.”

    I couldn’t tell if I was crying or laughing, but eventually it became clear it was tears.  

    Jamie was shaking his head, though whether it was in bewilderment, amusement, or frustration, I couldn’t tell.  I tried to explain. “Periods suck enough as they are, Jamie, but when seeing it come again screams ‘You’re not pregnant.  Again.’ It’s that much worse.”

    “Can I offer ye some advice, Claire?”  Jamie seemed hesitant.  When I nodded against him, he said.  “It seems like we keep returning to this discussion,  _Ri-pālle_ , but I think it’s important.  I’ve heard that some women get moody before their courses because of hormone fluctuations and that sometimes women take the pill just to level their emotions.”

    I didn’t know how to respond or if I could even respond rationally, so I held my tongue.

    “I can feel ye stiffen.  I ken you don’t like the idea.  But hear me out.  We made the decision about birth control just a couple weeks into our marriage.  At the time, I had thought it would be nice for you to get pregnant, for us to have a child together because you wanted it so badly.”

    “Yeah,” I responded.

    “Well, I may have changed my mind,” he said.  “It’s an utterly selfish reason, I know.  But it’s that I’m not ready to share you yet.”

    “So now you want me to go on birth control?” I clarified.  “Because you don’t want to share me and because I’m too emotional?”

    Jamie chuckled, shook his head, and started stroking my shoulder. “I should know better than to even start this conversation.  Truly, Claire, it’s no trouble for me either way.  I’m happy to hold ye close for any reason.  And if you wish to get pregnant, I’ll do my best to help you.” His chest leapt with restrained laughter. “But I thought maybe ye might not want to cry so much.”

    I pondered the possibilities as we cuddled together.

    “Of course,” Jamie offered seriously, “There is another option.”

    “What’s that?” I asked.

    “It’s an option which might kill me, but if we were abstinent, you could be absolutely assured you weren’t pregnant and you wouldn’t have these moments of disappointment.”

    I scoffed at him, extricated myself from our embrace and stood, then offered him my hand.  “Let’s go inside,” I said.  “I don’t think either of us are very good at celibacy now that we’re married, Jamie.”

    Jamie followed me into the house, where I set down the journal and letters on the kitchen table, turning to him with a playful look.  Then I pulled him over to the bed, sat him down, and straddled his lap.  He looked confused by my sudden change in affect.  

    I laughed. “Oh, Jamie, you have so much to learn,” I said.  “PMS can include irritability, mood swings,  ** _and_**  a highly charged libido.”  He blinked a few times, got his head around the change and reached for me.

    “Now this part I like,” he said, helpfully reaching up to peel off my shirt.

 

 

[Originally posted by lovemetwotimesbabyy](https://tmblr.co/ZT1rRv2Ylu1AS)

    “It’s been less than a week, Claire,” Jamie said with concern the next morning as I peeked in the catchment door.

    “Well, what could cause the sudden drop in the water level?” I asked as I looked up at him.  “It’s been hot and dry, but evaporation wouldn’t impact the catchment.”

    “That’s why it’s covered,” said Jamie. “To prevent that very thing.”

    “What do we do if we run out of fresh water?” I asked.  “I tried the well water once by accident and it was nasty! There’s no store to run to to buy bottled water. Boiling might make the well water safe, but it’s not going to make it taste any better!”

    Jamie’s eyes brightened at my suggestion. “You’re right that boiling it wouldn’t make it taste better but boiling it to  _distill_  it might.  We aren’t at the point of needing that yet, but I should consider alternate sources of drinking water—and distilling well water or even salt water might be one of them.”

    “Is that possible?” I asked.

    “It’s one way they create fresh water out here. They have a big solar distillery on Majuro,” Jamie said.  “People still have to limit their usage.  Rains don’t come as dependably as they did ‘ _i etto_ ’—in ancient times, at least that’s what the elders say.”

    “But what could be causing it to disappear so quickly?” I looked back into the catchment, unnerved by how low the water was in comparison to the last time I’d checked.  It seemed to be disappearing. “Do you think someone is taking water from our catchment?”

    “With the catchment so near the main road? And having to haul it to their place?” Jamie shook his head. “Not likely.”

    “I wonder if there’s a leak in the pipe that goes to the clinic,” I said.

    “I suppose we could try blocking the opening and seeing if that helps,” Jamie replied, contemplating options. “But it could be a leak in the main tank. I’ll get a flashlight, climb in and look.”

    “Climb in?” I asked.

    “Aye.  How else will I be able to see under the water?”

    “You’re going to climb into our  _drinking_  water?” I exclaimed, wrinkling my nose in disgust.

    “Ye dinna seem to mind putting your mouth directly on most of this,  _Ri-pālle_ ,” he said with a grin, generally indicating himself.  “So why is it so disgusting for it to touch our drinking water for a short time?”

    “It’s the principal of the thing,” I said. “When I put my mouth on you, I know what I’m doing.  I’m  _choosing_  to do it. And there’s a reason for it.”

    Jamie smirked. “There is? What might that be?”

    “I’m not sure,” I joked. “But I do know I don’t lick you all over.” Jamie laughed in response. “And I don’t put my mouth on you every time I have a glass of water.”

    “Now, that’s a shame,” said Jamie with a cheeky grin.  “I might like that. I might find myself bringing you drinks all the time.”

    I shook my head at my ridiculous husband.

    “But seriously lass, I need to see if there’s a crack in the cement. Will ye allow me to go in and look?”

    “Okay,” I agreed begrudgingly, “Thanks for asking for my permission.”  

    Jamie went to change into swim trunks.  Meanwhile I grabbed a towel, filled the laundry tub with water and placed it in front of the catchment opening, determined that at least Jamie wouldn’t be going in the catchment with dirty feet. 

from [@henricavyll](https://tmblr.co/mz2ZuDMHZzp8gBCCz3PSu2w)

     Once outside again, he stripped off his shirt, stepped out of his flip flops into the washtub, grabbed the flashlight, and then squeezed his body through the small doorway.

    I peeked in as he shone the flashlight across the interior of the gray cement block tank.

    “Can you fetch me my mask?” he asked.  “That way I can look underwater.”

vI returned in a few minutes with his freshly rinsed snorkeling mask, which he put on and then used to inspect the tank more closely.

    “Well,  _Ri-pālle_ , I believe I’ve found our culprit,” he said, as he hoisted himself up through the window. As he stood in the washtub dripping, he grinned back at me.  “Why are you smiling like that, wee one?” Jamie asked.

    “You just did a pull up, and then hoisted your  _entire_  body weight the rest of the way up to the window just with your arms,” I remarked admiringly, handing him a towel.

    “Ye are impressed by that?” Jamie asked with a wink, blotting water from his hair and body with the towel and then wrapping it around his waist. “I can think of other feats of strength that might impress you.” Looking both ways, he pulled me close with one strong arm and kissed me quite thoroughly.  “I can also think of some things I’d like to do to you that might encourage you to put your mouth on me again…” he whispered in my ear.

    I moved away from him, putting my hand on my lower abdomen with a grimace. I was feeling cruddy and crampy and hadn’t mentioned it to him.  “Sorry, babe.  My period started this morning,” I said.

    “But that’s only 26 days,” Jamie said, frowning. “You told me your cycles are 28 days.”

    “Wait,  _what_?” So many thoughts were rushing through my mind as I stood there with my mouth open. “You took a calendar and counted out the  _days_?” I asked, dumbfounded.

    Jamie grinned sheepishly. “A couple days ago,” he explained.  “When I realized you were having PMS, I wanted to know how many days we had left…and I was banking on two more!  Our one-month anniversary is two days from now.”

    “It is strange that it came early,” I said, “though Anni did tell me that women’s cycles can adjust to the moon.”

    Jamie couldn’t keep the disappointment from his face.

    “Don’t you think it’s about time that we slow down slightly anyway?” I asked.  “There’s more to married life than sex, after all.”

    “Truly?” Jamie asked, then grinned.  “Aye,” he responded.  “And I ken they  _do_  call it a honey _moon_ —that’s just a month of newlywed behavior.  I just love being with you that way so much, I get accustomed to our connection.”

    “Remember, we don’t have to stop touching altogether.  We just can back off on the sex.”

    “Easy for you to say,” Jamie said, smacking me affectionately on the butt as we headed back into the house.  “You’re not married to an adorable, curvy, beautiful, sexy, curly-haired silke from the sea.”    

    When I turned and stared at him skeptically, he chuckled.  “Well, ye can’t fault me for at least trying flattery!”

 

    Inside, Jamie brought out several of our pots and lids.

    “You said you’d figured out the culprit,” I said, as he poured well water into our biggest pot and then floated a bowl on top of it.  

    “Aye, just a tick,” he said.  He put on a curved glass lid, but he put it on upside-down.  Then he turned on the stove burner under the pot.

    “I canna always do and think and talk at the same time,” Jamie explained as he turned to me. “So, the culprit?   There’s a sizeable crack in the concrete of the catchment.  It’s leaking into the ground.”

    “What do we do then?” I asked.

    “I’m no’ sure. I’ll ask Dougal what the best method would be to block the crack, but in the meantime, I want to experiment with ways to turn brackish water into fresh.

    “So this is a distiller?” I asked, looking at the strange configuration on the burner.

    “Aye,” Jamie responded. “It’s no’ perfect as it will use fuel and I’d prefer a solar still, but I just want to see what we can do to create fresh water by ourselves.”

    “How does it work?” I peered down into the pot.

    “The well water will evaporate, putting out steam, which will rise up to the lid.  The steam will condense because the air is cooler outside the pot—”

    “Even though its sweltering in here,” I interrupted.

    “And because the lid is upside-down, the condensed water will drip down into the glass bowl.”

    I watched as the droplets of water got larger and began to roll downwards, then exclaimed as the first few drops left the lid and dripped into the glass bowl.

    “There’s an element of inefficiency,” Jamie added, pointing to the faint wisps of steam leaking around the lid.  “So I’d like to see if we can create a better set up.  But this will work for now.”

    He stood there for a moment, his forehead wrinkled.  Then he looked at me.  “Can we…” he paused.

    “Can we what?” I asked.

    “Use some of your…  _our_  money to buy parts for a water distiller?”

    I stared at him for a moment, then grabbed him around the waist. “Yes, Jamie!” I said. “Absolutely.  Please.”

    He grinned, but then appeared to be pondering again. “What about… home improvements?”  he added. At the question in my eyes, he clarified, “I’ve been thinking about doing some weather proofing in case of storms. Louvers don’t keep out rain that’s traveling nearly horizontally.  And I thought about… maybe upgrading the solar panels and the batteries so we might be able to run a small refrigerator?  I won’t spend very much, but I want to take care of you and I canna do it well wi’out money.”

    I sighed and hugged him again.  “I trust you, babe,” I said, quickly rewarded by a delighted smile on Jamie’s face.

    That boy was already tall, but he left our little interchange standing up straighter, shoulders square, chin high.

    And dammit, I was having my period.


	12. Field Ship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dougal calls on the short-wave radio with an assignment for Claire.

     Dougal’s voice crackled over the short-wave radio.  He and Jamie had just gone over attendance figures and half-term grades, and then Jamie had made an order for propane and some metal pipes and fittings (for what, I didn't know). I had mostly tuned the two of them out, particularly when Dougal started going on about the latest football wins and losses.

     I wasn’t into _American_ football to begin with, generally just watching the obligatory Super Bowl with a group of rowdy faculty friends of Frank's while we ate too much high fat, salty junk food, most of them drank too much, and we all paid the price by waking up bloated, or bloated _and_ hungover the morning after.  So to get into Scottish football was a bit of a stretch, especially after hearing a bunch of random names and an entirely foreign vocabulary when they discussed it.

     I figured when Jamie and I were back in the land of televisions I'd make an effort to appreciate the sport he loved, and the majority of the world considered football; though I imagined I would most enjoy it if I got to see my _husband_ play an actual game.  Currently, though, I wasn’t really paying attention to their staticky but still heated discussion.

     Instead, I was leaning against the kitchen counter, simply watching my husband—the way he gestured with his hands, though Dougal couldn't see him, describing the hardware supplies he needed; appreciating how excitedly he responded to Dougal’s sports updates.  He turned away from the radio, hand piece still gripped with his left hand in front of his mouth and smiled at me curiously when he realized I was staring at him.

     “Put Claire on, will ye?  Over.” Dougal’s gruff voice broke into my reverie. 

     Jamie handed the microphone off to me, but stayed close behind me, trying to distract me by brushing my hair to the side and kissing my neck.

     “So Claire, do you remember the off-site nursing work I said ye’d do at least two or three times during your term?  Well, they're preparing the government field ship for their next voyage to the outer islands, and you'll be coming along. Over.”

     Jamie had stopped caressing me at Dougal’s words, his hands frozen on my shoulders.

     “It won't have an impact on our Christmas travel, will it?” I asked, turning to Jamie and worriedly meeting his eyes. “We already purchased tickets to Guam...” I waited for him to reply, then remembered.  “Oh, over!”

     “No,” Dougal responded.  “We should be back by the seventeenth, and you don't leave til the 22nd, do you?  But ye do need to be packed for a week or more and be prepared to fly to Majuro on the plane tomorrow. Over.”

     “Packed?  By tomorrow?” I exclaimed. “For a week-long first-aid and nursing trip? How will I know what supplies and medications I am supposed to bring?  And how will it fit in the airplane?... Over.”

     “Oh, don’t worry about anything other than clothes,” said Dougal. “The field ship is a fully functioning and stocked hospital, dental office, bank, and government building.  They deliver supplies of food and orders made by radio to the different islands, picking up the copra to bring back to Majuro.  The bank pays the locals cash for their copra, the government offices register births and deaths and marriages.  I will be checking in with the other Peace Corps volunteers at our remote campuses. You and our volunteer dentist will provide medical and dental care.  There's even a cook on staff and meals are provided, but you can certainly bring some of your own food if you want.  Sometimes they get an actual doctor or surgeon out, but this time the officials chose a window of time that none was available.  Over.”

     I faintly remembered Mr. MacKenzie and Laura telling me about the government field ship voyages, but there had been so much covered in my orientation, I wasn't surprised it had slipped my mind.

     To be honest, when I'd first heard about it, it sounded cool; a chance to travel on a boat and see other islands? That could be quite an adventure.

     So why did I have a sinking sensation in the pit of my stomach now?  There was only one reason, really, and he was standing next to me.

     “Okay,” I replied to Dougal.  “That should at least give me time to do my morning well-child check-ups tomorrow.  Can you arrange for the truck to pick me up at two?” I waited in the silence for several seconds before realizing that I had forgotten, again. “Over!” I exclaimed.

     “Yes,” Dougal responded.  “I’ve already called the iroij to have the truck pick you up.  I'll see you tomorrow afternoon or evening at the airport. Over and out.”

     “Over and out,” I said, setting the microphone down on top of the short-wave radio.

     “Well, then,” Jamie's husky voice brought me back to the present. 

     “Only one month married and we're already getting **_separated_**?” My attempt at humor fell flat.

     “It will just make being together again sweeter,” Jamie suggested. He smiled and put his arm around me. “Dinna look so concerned, Ri-pālle.  I'm a big boy.  As much as I will miss you, I can survive a week without sex.  And perhaps they'll plan one of the trips for the summer time and I can come along with you.”

     “Are you sure?” I asked.  “My leaving seemed to really upset you before.”

     “I'm no going to lose ye,” Jamie smiled and squeezed me closer.  “There's no man to steal ye away from me on that ship.  I can focus on my students and catch up on planning and grading—be more like the teacher I was before I was constantly distracted by my desire for you.” 

     I sighed, nodded, and smiled.

     Jamie raised his eyebrows suggestively.  “However, you are still _here_ , so…”

 

 

     After twenty hours and a half-hour taxi ride from the airport, Dougal and I arrived at the same dock where Metao had brought his boat to sell his fish. Already docked and waiting for us, the field service ship was a surprise to me, more barge-like in design than I’d expected.  Painted in bold blue, white, and orange like the Marshallese flag, on half of it was a boxy three-storied structure topped with what appeared to be a crane, and the other half was simply an open deck, where a larger crane on the dock itself was slowly lowering a cargo container. It made sense if they were dropping off cargo and picking up the supply of copra to bring back to Majuro.

     The taxi driver opened the trunk for me, and I got my rolling suitcase out, smiling at Doctor Saul as he grabbed his modest-sized suitcase as well.  Although we were to be gone for a week, I had no idea what the accommodations would be like, so along with changes of dresses, bras, and panties and several pairs of sandals, I had squeezed in a small pillow and an extra blanket plus a loaf of bread, some ship biscuits, dried fruit, and a couple of candy bars.  I hoped there would be adequate space in my cabin for my suitcase.

     Dougal eyeballed me and then my suitcase skeptically, slung his small duffle bag over his shoulder, and headed for the gangplank.  I followed along as rapidly as I could, with the wheels of my case bumping over the crumbling cement leading to the dock, then rattling up the metal-grated ramp to the ship.  A handsome young man who had had the look of an islander about him but not the distinct features of the Marshallese, reached up and took the suitcase from me when I stood at the top of the steps, then smiled at me as I retrieved it from him once I reached the deck. 

     “You’re Claire Fraser?” he asked.  “I know your husband, then.  Jamie and I graduated together from the College of the Marshall Islands.  I’m the translator for the trip.”

     “And your name is?” I asked. 

     “John,” he said.  “Well, it’s Anij John Kilmeej.  But I go by John.” 

     I smiled back.  I thought it might be fun to hear a bit about college Jamie, and I was grateful there’d be another English-speaker on the boat besides Dougal and the white-haired dentist; though he’d been amazingly sweet in the taxi, he was definitely at least seventy.

     “See you later,” I said, following Dougal across the deck. 

     “Here’s the clinic,” Dougal offered, “and here’s the dental operatory.”  He gestured toward the doors of two rooms on the first floor as we passed them.  “You won’t need to worry about getting in there until tomorrow morning.  We will be docked at Mili atoll.”

     He directed Dr. Saul to another door on the main level and handed him a key.  Then Dougal walked ahead of me up the narrow stairway to the second floor, not seeming to notice as I struggled to carry my suitcase behind me.  “I’ll be in here,” he gestured to one door, “and you’ll be in the room next to me.” 

     Dougal wasn’t one to smile often, but he did then.  “Your young husband made sure I promised that I’d look out for your honor on this voyage.  I dinna think he needs to worry about it, but I’ll be here.”  He handed me a key.

     “What’s the schedule?” I asked, turning back toward him from my doorway.

     “Well, they won’t be leaving for another hour, and dinner isn’t provided on the ship tonight.  Did you bring snacks?  If not, you might want to run across the way to the grocery store.”

     I unlocked the door and looked at my digs for the upcoming week.  The room was minuscule—barely enough space for the bed, which was narrower than a regular single, plus a tiny vanity and mirror.  The bed was raised on a platform, so I was able to push my suitcase underneath.

     For a moment I considered just holing up in my little cabin for the evening, but the promise of a bag of potato chips and maybe some fresh fruit made me grab my wallet, lock the door, and head down the stairs.

     I was climbing the steps to the gang plank when I heard a voice behind me.  “Where are you going, Mrs. Fraser?”

     It was so strange to be called that, I barely responded; then I turned and saw John. 

     “Dougal says there’s no dinner provided,” I explained, “so I was going to run over to the Cost Price Supermarket and grab a few things.”

     John shook his head quickly, walking after me up the steps.  “You should go to EZ Mart instead,” he suggested.  “I’ll come with you and show you where it is.”

     “I really am a big girl.  I can take care of myself,” I insisted, walking at a rapid pace away from the dock toward the lagoon road. As nice as he seemed, I wasn’t completely sure about this guy.  He met my pace, though, walking next to me.

     “I know Jamie,” John said simply.  “He’s a gentleman.  And he wouldn’t want me to let you go by yourself.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, guess what "Anij" means in Marshallese? Kilmeej? If you guessed "Lord" and "Grey," ding ding ding ding!


	13. Anij John Kilmeej

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Second of two chapters today. Return of Jamie's tape-recording to Murtagh...

     The ship hoisted anchor at five and had docked in Mili by 7:30.  I had thought we would just stay in our rooms for the night, but Dougal knocked on my door, saying the islanders had prepared a _kwōjkwōj_ , a feast, for us.  I was delighted to add some rice and fish to the salty chips in my stomach, as well as some banana donuts, and enjoyed seeing the local children running around so excited, as if the field ship was Santa’s sleigh, filled with all kinds of wonders.

     After the meal, the villagers built a bonfire, and musical instruments appeared out of nowhere.  It seemed a talent night of sorts, though unstructured, as first one group of people and then another would dance or present a song.

     I noticed John looking at me curiously as he strummed a guitar.  The talk by the fire was getting boisterous, and I found myself hanging back from the crowd.  I wasn’t fluent enough in Majel to be able to follow the rapid-fire conversations, and truth be told, I was already missing Jamie.  I observed as John set the guitar down, strolled over to where I was leaning against a coconut tree, and squatted by me.

     “I was curious to meet you,” he said, frown lines on his forehead, contrasting with a small smile on his lips.

     “Curious to see who had entrapped your friend into marriage?” I joked.

     “No,” John responded.  “Curious about who got this notorious bachelor to _date_ , let alone get married.” He peered at me curiously

     “You mean, he didn’t date much in college?”  This surprised me, considering how naturally Jamie and I had fallen into friendship.

     “Oh, he was friendly, all right,” John said.  It was driving me crazy that I could not read the look on his face.  “Just didn’t date.  I guess he was focused on school.  We studied together a lot.”

     “Are you a teacher as well?” I asked.

     “Oh, no,” he responded.  “The College only provides two-year degrees.  I’ll have to go to Guam or Hawaii to finish up a four-year degree.  I just took liberal arts, and right now I’m keeping busy with translating and government work. I’m not sure what degree I’ll end up taking.”

     “So, Jamie doesn’t have a Bachelor’s degree?” I asked, with the sudden realization that our financial and work situation wasn’t as clear as I had thought if Jamie still had two years of college left.

     “Oh, he has an Associate’s degree in Education, but you know, that’s just a two- year program.” John said.  “You didn’t know?”  He was staring at me with a mixture of pity and disbelief.

     “No, but I did think he was awfully young to be in his second year of teaching at twenty-two.”

     J  ohn shook his head and looked at the ground.  “I’m sorry if I said anything I shouldn’t have.”

     “Um, considering the fact that I married him after knowing him five weeks and that we’ve been married just a month, I’m not surprised that I still have things to learn.  It doesn’t change that I love him and that we’re great together,” I said. “I’ve already sorted through that decision.”

     For a split second, an emotion cross john’s face.  I would have labeled it jealousy or hatred if he didn’t seem so damn nice. 

     John pursed his lips.  “You’re American?” he asked.

     “Yes,” I answered.  “Isn’t that obvious?”

     “ _Conservative_ American?  Christian?” he asked.  I wondered what he was getting at.

     “Pretty liberal,” I answered.  John nodded thoughtfully.

     “For a long time,” John said, gazing over at the dancing flames, “I wondered if Jamie might be gay.”

     I began to understand then.  John’s curiosity, his questions, his hesitance to speak openly.  I didn’t know whether I should broach the topic, but I felt instinctively that here was a man I could trust; someone I could be open with; someone who wanted to be open with me.  And I suddenly had an explanation for the expressions on his face I didn’t understand.

     “Are _you_?” I asked, quietly.

     John turned to look at me, his eyes asking a question.  My face must have held what he needed, because he smiled.  “Ayet,” he said.

     “What was it that made you think that Jamie was as well?” I asked.  The gay friends I had in high school and college seemed to have an innate sense about who was and who wasn’t.  Was there something about Jamie that I didn’t see?

     John smiled slightly.  “He’s magnetic; everyone’s attracted to him.  You know that, of course.  I didn’t really get a sense that he was gay from him, exactly.  But I wondered about it because he didn’t date anyone when we were in college.  He didn’t brag about sexual exploits or girls he’d gone to bed with.  I knew he was Catholic, but that didn’t seem to be enough of an explanation for him basically being celibate.”

     “He did come to our marriage a virgin,” I said, without thinking, even though by now I was certain that John must have had feelings for Jamie at one time. 

     John cleared his throat and looked away from me.

     “Did you ever talk to him about it?” I asked. 

     John’s response was a bitter chuckle. “Eventually I think he figured out I was falling in love with him, because he had a very kind but firm talk with me one evening after we’d been studying together.  _That_ was embarrassing.”   

     “I’m sorry,” I said.  “I can see how that must have hurt, because when I thought I was going to lose Jamie as a friend, I was heartbroken.  He’s an amazing person.”

     John had picked up a stick and was gouging deep parallel lines in the sand in front of him.  “That he is,” he said.

     I yawned, stood, and then brushed the sand off my dress.  “I think I’ll head back to the ship,” I said.  “I’m feeling tired.”

     “Let me walk with you,” John offered.

     “What will everyone think of us?” I joked, holding out my hand to help him up.  “A man and a woman walking together, alone, at night?”

     “I _know_ ,” John responded. “Scandalous.  That’s where kids like me come from.”

     “What do you mean?”

     “Majel mother.  Peace Corps father…”

     “No!” I exclaimed.  “Were they married?  Or, _did_ they marry?”

     “No,” John responded.  “I would have had a different last name if he’d stayed.  It was a fling; he finished his term before I was born, and rumors couldn’t prove that he’d gotten her pregnant. Then I grew up wondering why my skin wasn’t quite the same as all my friends’.”

     We strolled down the beach toward the lights of the ship.  “You know,” I said, “this was the first thing Jamie did for me that showed what a gentleman he was.  He wouldn’t let me walk home alone.  And then he proceeded to give me a lecture about Majel customs and social mores.  He was always protective of my reputation."

     John sighed.  “He is a good man,” he said quietly.  “And you are a lucky woman.”

 

 

     The next day was incredibly busy.  An early morning breakfast was followed by hours of patients with cuts, boils, or infections.  I administered eye tests as well as blood tests for diabetes or other serious ailments.

     For the women who came through the clinic door, their main desire was that magical shot of Depo which would last them for three months; or for those more serious about delaying children, the insertion of the Nexplanon contraceptive into their upper arms which could last up to four years if not removed before then.  

     I checked pregnant women and handed out pre-natal vitamins.  When there were mothers of babies and toddlers, I sent them off with one of the kits we’d put together from Joe’s donations.  I knew at least the mosquito net would last for a while, but the soap would be gone in no time at all.

     John traveled between the clinic room and the dental operatory next door to do translating.  Dr. Saul was kept even busier than I, with tooth extractions and occasionally a cavity that was mild enough to just need a filling.  John reported on one visit to the clinic that the dentist had even set up a second chair and was having him paint sealant in kids’ mouths to help avoid cavities in their baby teeth.  John was also doing demonstrations of proper tooth and gum care as he handed out toothpaste and toothbrushes, donated by Dr. Saul’s former partners.

     John was such a handsome, sweet guy, that the strange mixture of confusion and competitiveness I’d felt the night before quickly disappeared as we shared jokes and exhausted sighs as the day progressed.

     The other offices were nearly as busy as ours, with a constant stream of people going into the government office, the bank, and the little store which was stocked with a variety of clothing and household items.  At the same time, the crane was busy off-loading cases and boxes to be delivered locally, and then bringing on pallets of rancid-smelling brown burlap bags of smoked coconut copra.

     We interrupted our tasks for a short lunch break and almost immediately returned to work, finally closing shop at five when the boat hoisted anchor and headed off on the next leg of our voyage, with two hours of light until sundown.  We ate in the mess hall with the waves rolling under us, but we had docked at our next port by 8 pm.

     Exhaustedly I curled up on the narrow bed in my tiny cabin for the night.  The boat swayed gently with the rising and falling swells. 

     Physically I was aching. My day had been packed with appointments and faces and sad stories.  Emotionally I was feeling needy; I missed Jamie.  I wanted to talk to him about John.  I wanted him to cuddle me.  I missed seeing his smile and the way he gazed at me adoringly.  I wanted to tell him about the little girl whose ear infection had been so severe that her hearing might be permanently impaired.

     I closed my eyes and tried to imagine Jamie.  I could bring snippets of him to mind—his bright blue eyes, his curls—yet it was challenging to really picture him.  All I knew was that something was missing, and I awakened repeatedly through the night with a sense of loss.

 

     I had known that this week was going to be torture for Jamie.  I was quite positive I would miss him too but being busy would help me not to focus on it.

     As I anticipated how the two of us would each manage during a whole week apart, I had an idea of a gift I could leave for Jamie.  As soon as he headed off for school at 7:30 the morning of my trip, I grabbed my phone.

 

     Jamie came home at lunch, walked in the door of our house, and wrapped me in his arms.

     “You will come back to me, now,” he murmured into my hair.

     “I will indeed,” I promised.  We stood there for several minutes just holding each other, before moving to the bed for one last sweet time together.

     When it was time for Jamie to head back to school at one, I didn’t want him to go. He stepped away and gazed seriously at me.

     “What are you doing?” I asked. 

     “Memorizing your face,” he said, wrinkling his nose.  “I want to be able to call you to mind when you’re gone.”

     “It’s a week, babe, not forever,” I teased.  But when I kissed him goodbye, I dug my fingers into the hair at the back of his neck and pressed myself to him, reluctant to let go of him, feeling emotional and teary when we finally released each other.

 

 

 

     As he left, he met my eyes with one last longing smile, and headed down the road away from me.

     I took a final inventory of my bag, straightened the apartment slightly, and then awaited the crunch of gravel at the arrival of the pick-up truck.

     As I left, I glanced over at my phone on the kitchen table, resting on top of a folded piece of paper.  I felt a little giddy and wondered when Jamie would find it.

 

 

 

> … _static_ …. Murtagh—
> 
> Never fear.  I willna be drinking and talking this time… _chuckle_... I am _grading_ and talking, though, which will explain the rustling of papers and sudden silences.  I amna always good at multi-tasking… _science first?  Where is that key?_
> 
> Seems to me that it’s when Claire’s gone that I need to _talk_ to someone, no just write… I love Angus and Rupert all right, but our conversations never seem to be all the way honest… it is so healthy to have some one know your heart, ye ken? I probably havena been writing you as often as I used to since I married Claire, because she’s been filling that need for me. 
> 
> You used to be the one I always talked to… But the Bible does say a man must leave his mother and father and cleave to his wife.  Well, Ma and Da are gone, and you and Jenny are my family… So it’s the two of ye that I am “leaving,” I guess… _14 out of 17?  Patrick, ye can do better than that!..._
> 
> I’m positive you’ll love Claire… Of course, it’s going to take Jenny an eon to come around.  That girl is so stubborn!  It’s like she’s made up her mind to hate Claire from the beginning.  Did I tell you we went to Majuro and I called to talk to her?  Did she ever hand me _my_ arse!?!  But after I’d heard her out, I told her as plainly as I could what Claire meant to me, and that’s where we left it.  Considering that plane tickets between here and Scotland are $3000 a piece, I’m no longer expecting ye to visit, and it may be a while before we're able to visit there, either…  _Okay.  Now, is that all of them?  Twenty-three, twenty -four, twenty -five ._
> 
> What was I talking about?  Oh, yeah.  Cleaving to Claire… _Sigh_ …  I can just imagine ye on the other end of this, rolling your eyes and glaring at me.  But I ken ye love me, ye old coot.   There’s that other scripture that says that in a marriage, a man and a woman become one flesh.  Now I know ye arna a virgin, Murtagh, even if ye aren’t married.  So you at least can understand a little of what I’m saying.  And again, this is probably way more than you want to hear from me… Sorry, I feel like talking about it...
> 
> But in those moments when we’re together, when I can barely tell where her body ends and mine begins, I’ve never felt that connected wi’ another human being.  Christ, I shouldna talk about this.  It’s bringing it to mind, and I dinna have anything constructive to do with my response to these thoughts…  _No, Roby, ye mixed those two up again!... Minus four, is it?_
> 
> I mean, I know that I could… _you ken…_. But I havena done _that_ since we got married.  I imagine it’s going to be impossible to wait a whole week.  It’ll be strange, I think, but maybe less strange than I anticipate.  And if I’m beyond horny, then…   But again, that’s more than ye need to or want to hear. 
> 
> So I told you she was gone, but not why… Never fear, it’s not the same kind of separation as last time.  Dougal’s taking Claire on a week-long trip to work off a ship as a nurse to the outer islands.  I couldna be prouder of her, the thought of her helping all the women and holding all the little babies.  She’s got such a gentle touch… _longing sigh._.
> 
> God.  I walked away from her after lunch at home today, knowing that she’d be gone when I got back, and I almost couldn’t do it.  Almost said, “Sod it all.  I’m coming with you.” But you know I’m more responsible than that…
> 
> I told her I’d be fine without her.  I dinna like to lie.  And it’s mostly the truth—I’m not off my head with drink.  But I needed her to be able to focus on her work, and ye did tell me to stop being such a block head… _laugh_ … _rustle… Carlson, why in the world would you write that?  The answer was energy…_
> 
> It was triggering to come back to the apartment at  four and have her not be there.  As I’ve been grading papers, I keep looking toward the iar, as if maybe she is snorkel-bathing…. _chuckle_ … that silly girl.  Did I write about that?  We’re heading to Guam for Christmas, to spend time with her family, and she didn’t want to have a— _what did she call it?_ — _a_ **_farmer’s_** _tan_ when we go to the beach there. 
> 
> Social mores dictate women can’t show their thighs around here.    So she wears a bikini under shorts and a tee or a swim dress, goes out snorkeling, then strips down to the bikini, swims until she’s gotten sun on her back, then floats on her back until she’s gotten sun on her front, then gets redressed before coming back to shore… _silence, sigh_.
> 
> Here I go again, pitifully missing my lass… Sorry, Murtagh, I’m pretty depressing company today…maybe I should pause this for a while. _rustle… clunk…_
> 
> Huh?  Silly girl left me a note on the table here, but she stuck it under her phone.  She must have done that so it wouldn’t blow away.
> 
> (Quietly, under his breath)… _Hey, babe, I’m going to miss you a  lot. Just thinking it may be harder for you than me, so I thought I’d leave a little gift for you….._ Hmmm?... _You should make sure you’re alone for this_ … **what?**
> 
> _Look on my phone, touch the “videos” icon, select the first one, and  then push play.  PleasePleasePlease don’t let Angus and Rupert get their hands on this…” …. A Dhia!  Is this what I think it is?  Oh, Claire? ye naughty girl!…._
> 
> So, um, Murtagh?  Something’s come up… _chuckle_ … Talk to you later, man… _click_ …


	14. Ache

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire's duties on the field ship continue, she gets to know John better, and find herself missing Jamie.

Ache

At breakfast the next morning, I found myself at the same table as Dr. Saul.  We smiled at each other across the table as we attempted to fuel ourselves for the day with a breakfast of rice, fish, and breadfruit.  I found myself longing for a bowl of Jamie’s steel cut oatmeal—what he called ‘porridge’—chewy and satisfying especially when topped with brown sugar and powdered milk.  Thinking of him made me feel even emptier than I already did.

“It’s a shame that there’s not time for follow-ups,” the kindly doctor remarked, his brown eyes a contrast to his stark white hair.  “Some of the teeth I had to pull yesterday could actually have been saved if I had time to do a crown.  But with such a short time to visit, if a cavity goes deep enough and can’t be fixed with an amalgam filling the tooth has to go.”

“I feel the same way,” I replied, pushing the dry roasted breadfruit around my plate.  As much as I tried to tell myself it was just a starch like potatoes and that despite its name it wasn’t _supposed_ to taste like either bread _or_ fruit, I couldn’t bring myself to eat it if it wasn’t drenched in oil and salt.  “I guess Arno is lucky to have a nurse practitioner there, though we don’t have a dentist… speaking of which, Dr. Saul, do you think I might be able to observe an extraction?  A toothache is one of the things that makes people miserable, and I’d like to be able to at least help them if they’ve got a horribly abscessed tooth.  I don’t want to make it worse for them by cracking a tooth off in their jaws.”

Dr. Saul smiled.  “You’ve got to become a jack of all trades out on these islands, don’t you?”  He looked at me curiously.  “My wife was a nurse before we retired.  I’ve tended to come on these adventures without her, but I keep on wishing she would be willing, for a short time if not several months, to serve out on one of these islands.” He smiled.  “Then I’d finally have time to do dental work the way I’d like to, and she could be my assistant if she wasn’t otherwise occupied.”

All too soon it was time for us to take our dishes to the galley, call out “ _kommool tata_ ” to the cook, and head to our respective stations.

We had docked on Jabor, the islet with the largest population on Jaluit.  I was surprised to see how westernized the little town was, like a miniature Majuro.  Instead of palm trees radiating out from the dock, there were some paved roads and some coral gravel roads, houses, a couple of small stores, and a school.  It seemed like every spare inch of space was covered with either a building or road.

The ship still had a large delivery of boxes to offload and copra to pick up, but it was obvious that the residents had less need of the medical services we provided.  Dr. Saul, however was quite busy, so during my patient breaks he was able to coach me through several extractions.  He showed me how to grip the tooth and rock it back and forth in its socket to loosen the bone and detach the ligament before removing the tooth.   Preparation, he said, was extremely important and would prevent the tooth splintering on removal.

He also demonstrated what to do if a tooth cracked on its way out—how to flush the cavity and make sure to extract the other pieces, to close the opening with a few stitches, as well as giving the patient instructions to rinse their mouths with salt water until fully healed. 

John had a bit of a weak stomach, so he was quite grateful to relinquish the assistant spot to me, and instead manned the fort in the clinic to come get me if I had a patient and handed out toothbrushes and toothpaste to curious children peering into the dental operatory.

Because Jabor was so well-supplied and urbanized, the ship only spent half the day there.  At our lunch break, the boat left the dock and pressed north to another island in the atoll a 45-minute journey away.

After we’d filled our plates, John and I found a shady spot on the upper deck to eat, as far away as possible from the bags of copra piled high on the main deck so that the rancid odor no longer overpowered us.  It was getting worse as the trip progressed and the supply of smoked coconut increased, though if we ever got a breeze at night, it seemed to blow the smell away.  However, in the past few days the ocean had been remarkably still and currently the only disturbance on the water was the white “v” of our wake.

“Where are we going now?” I asked John.

“ _Imiej_ ,” he replied.  “It was where the Japanese were based during World War II here.” John pointed ahead to the far end of the long green island parallel to our course.  “There are ruins of barracks and an old Shinto shrine there, as well as wrecks of boats and airplanes that divers come to see.”

“I knew that Guam was held by the Japanese during World War II,” I nodded.  “I hadn’t realized that the Marshall Islands were, too.”

“It’s taken a while for us to travel toward independence,” John smiled.  “In the 1880s during the imperialism rush, Germany claimed the Marshall Islands.  They put in a trading post here on Jaluit.  After World War I, Germany lost the territory and we were given to Japan.” 

“As if your nation was something that could belong to anyone other than her people?”

John inspected his fish and selected the perfect bite to pair with his rice.  John was handsome, refined, and distinguished, and yet he looked just as at home eating coconut rice and barbecued fish with his fingers as if he was using utensils in a fine dining establishment. 

“Well, Claire,” he said, smiling patiently, “Though a small nation does not have much control of her destiny, what can be accomplished viewing history with bitterness?  Our histories make us who we are.  During that time, we gained Japanese immigrants, and although many were repatriated to Japan after the war, if they’d intermarried, they were allowed to stay here.”

“I was thinking Ogawa sounded very Asian,” I responded.  “Our general store out on Arno is owned by an Ogawa.  And a few of Jamie’s students have a blend of Marshall and Japanese features.”

John nodded. 

“A lot of late World War II was fought in the Pacific, as I recall,” I said.  “The US liberated Guam from the Japanese before the war ended.”

“The Japanese base here on Jaluit was bombed during World War II.  The US took the Marshalls in early 1944, and the war didn’t end until a year and a half later.  After the war we became part of the Trust Territories of the Pacific Islands.”

“Forgive my ignorance,” I said.  “But are the Marshall Islands still a territory of the US?  Guam is.”

“No, we gained our independence in 1986,” John said with a smile.  “Thirty-two years ago.  We might still be considered a protectorate of the US—they provide defense for us, and the US postal system delivers mail here as if we were a territory or state.  Considering that we only have 55,000 people in the entire nation, we aren’t any sort of superpower.”

I set down my plate and leaned forward toward John. “I’m missing my husband,” I said.  “Tell me how you met.”

John’s face brightened.  “I think it was my first day of College Writing,” he said.  “I like to do well in school, so I was one of the few people sitting toward the front of the classroom.  The next thing I know a very large _ri-palle_ with bright red hair sat down by me.  Sorry,” he said, “ _Ri-pālle_ means…”

“No need to translate,” I said.  “That’s Jamie’s name for me half the time.”

John looked amused. “He _calls_ you _Ri-pālle_?”

“ _Aet_ ,” I nodded.  “As in ‘ _itōk Ri-pālle_.’”

He shook his head in amusement.  “That Jamie… always kakūtōtōik—teasing. Sometimes,” John said, “the teasing hides a deep hurt… He has mentioned his family, of course.”

I nodded.

“The loss of his father in particular,” said John. He started to ask me a question, then stopped himself. “Has he mentioned me?”

I shook my head slowly.  “But John,” I explained, “I have only known him a little over two months.”

John stared at the wake of the boat. “Jamie was just the opposite of everything I’d seen every day since I was a kid. Red hair instead of black; curly instead of straight.  Tall instead of short.  Big instead of petite. You can see I’m bigger than the average Marshallese because I’m half white.  And having never met my father, I was drawn to Jamie. It was like I was seeing the other half of myself, the other half of my identity.” He paused.  “And I was coming to grips with another part of my identity as well, deciding whether it was safe, whether I was ready to come out of the closet.”

“It’s a big decision,” I responded.  “My best friend Joe is gay.  Coming out to his mom was the hardest thing he’d ever done.  Of course, she gave him a big ol’ hug and said, ‘Honey, I’ve known forever.  I just wondered when you were going to figure it out.’” I remembered the glassy look of tears in Joe’s eyes when he’d told me that story, when he’d shared how freeing it was to be able to be real with his momma.

“Sometimes it’s hard to stay home and make that change,” I said.  “Joe moved across the country for college, and he’s settled in Colorado.”

John looked straight at me. “At times I feel certain that moving away is what I need to do to really be able to be myself.  But I’m tied to this place.  I just haven’t been able to leave.”

 

 

The peaceful camaraderie of our boat journey quickly came to an end when we docked at Imiej and soon the staff of all the offices were back to work.  By the end of our second work day, I had reached a level of efficiency that reminded me of my days in the ER, funneling patients through as quickly as possible, assessing their needs and providing care in a prompt manner.  I missed the relaxed, communal nature of my practice on Arno but it was also stimulating to rush again.  There was a part of me that recognized that sensation of stress and responded by shutting down the social part of my brain and triggering the professional part.

But after dinner, when the field ship was heading across the still sea toward our next destination, the atoll of Ailinglaplap; the part of my heart that longed for connection couldn’t help but ache.  I crept up to the top deck again and sat by the railing, gazing out toward the east, opposite the final rays of the setting sun.  Somewhere over those black, still waters lay the island of Majuro.  And beyond that was Arno and Jamie.  I hugged my knees to my chest and closed my eyes. 

I’d been homesick at camp before.  I’d had that baby ache when I longed to be a mother.  And I’d missed Frank when I first came out to Arno.  But missing Jamie hurt all over.  I pictured him coming home to me, his face beaming at the sight of me, imagined him after a morning jog, entering our apartment with a smile on his face, sweaty and hungry for breakfast and me, and the look on his face as he determined which to have first.  I thought of him getting dressed in the morning standing by the closet in boxer briefs—how just the sight of him: damp curls around his ears and neck, the lines of his back and visible tone of his muscles could draw me to him as if nothing else existed, unsatisfied until I had seduced him, until I had tasted him fresh with the scent of soap, until I had made him moan and say my name, gasp and blink his eyes in awe and then chuckle, speechless on our bed.

I thought of being held—in that bed, on the couch, in the hammock, standing in the kitchen doing the dishes with him hugging me from behind, his breath in my hair, his body a solid wall of security behind me.  I thought of talking in our bed in the darkness of night, the pleasure of telling stories of our childhoods and discussing things that mattered to us.  There was continued joy in the discovery of who Jamie was, and with each new revelation of his thoughtful character, I thanked providence for bringing us together.

Someone cleared his throat behind me, and I startled at the sound, at first concerned but then grateful to realize it was Dougal MacKenzie and not one of the deck hands who I occasionally found leering at me.

“Well, young lady,” he said, coming over by me and sitting down on a box. “Here you are, outside at night alone again.”  He chuckled, so I began to think I wasn’t in trouble with him.  “We havena had many opportunities to get acquainted, but I thought I might take a moment to check with you and see how you are doing.”

I was grateful I hadn’t succumbed to the impulse I was feeling right before he arrived which was to start crying.  It was probably good to be distracted.

“I’m definitely keeping busy, Mr. MacKenzie,” I said.  “I’ve seen so many skin ailments and infections galore and given out at least a third of the boil prevention kits I brought along with me.”

“Indeed?  That’s good….”  We sat in silence for a moment before he began again.  “So you and Jamie have been married a month now?” he asked. 

“Yes, sir,” I responded.  “It was our anniversary when you radioed us.”

I could barely see his face with the sunset fading behind him, but I had a sense that he was smiling.

“Miss Beauchamp,” he started.  “I mean, Mrs. Fraser.  There are moments when I regret not speaking out against your marriage.  It was a sudden decision, and I have wondered whether by _not_ forbidding it, I allowed the two of you to move forward with a life choice that will prove painful to both of you. I hope it wasn’t a mistake.”

“Oh, no, it wasn’t a mistake, Mr. MacKenzie,” I insisted. “As much as it seemed sudden, Jamie and I had a connection from our first meeting.”

“Truly?” Mr. MacKenzie asked. 

“I love him, sir,” I said.  “I was just sitting here thinking of him.  It may have been being reprimanded for my behavior and realizing what it would mean to lose him that was the catalyst, but I believe that we would have ended up dating and marrying if life had continued as it was.  I was falling in love with him, and he said he wanted me from the beginning.”

“So I don’t need to second guess my decision to let you be married?  I often consider my sister Ellen when I think of the lad.  When she died and then Brian left, I knew I needed to provide for him.  He needed a man, an example, to get him back on the right path.  And though I think I’ve been firm with him and demanded much, I hope it has not worked for ill in his life.”

“Jamie is a very hard worker, sir,” I said.  “And yet gentle and kind too.”

“Well, I canna take any credit for the gentle and kind part,” Dougal laughed.  “Nor do I think that it was all Ellen’s doing, as sweet as she could sometimes be.  I think it was his father, Brian.  Though I don’t know what sort of tenderhearted person would leave his son and daughter when they were still grieving their mother and brother.”  He faded into silence.

“Jamie was lucky to have you, sir,” I responded quietly.  “And I’m grateful to you, too.”

He pushed himself up from the box.  “I promised Jamie I would keep you safe.  So you’d better come down with me and get settled in your stateroom for the night.  And in the future, if you wish to have time alone after dark, perhaps you could knock on my door and mention it to me.  I can stand guard at the stairs.”

Before the man could move away, I hugged him.  “You’re family now, Mr. MacKenzie,” I explained.  “Thanks for trying to take care of me.”

He patted me awkwardly on the back, and I followed him downstairs, smiling as I entered my room.  The hug hadn’t been from Jamie, but it would do.


	15. Hugs and Kisses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The days are blending together, and it still feels like she's a million miles from home...

     The days remained busy after that, stopping on Jeh in the Ailinglaplap atoll for more copra and field ship services on Thursday.  We spent two nights docked on Jeh, but Friday morning the ship sailed north to Kwajalein, the atoll with the largest lagoon, entering the lagoon through a channel and then docking at the southern island of Kwaj which happened to be an American naval base.  This was the reason we hadn’t been allowed to arrive there in the night time. The ship was able to offload the copra collected to this point and take on a new container with deliveries for the Ratak chain, but we weren’t allowed to exit the ship there because of Kwajalein’s designation as an active military site.

     Although it was tedious to wait for the offloading to occur, at least there was cell service available so I was able to catch my parents and chat for a while during the transfer of containers.  I had to stay on the ocean side of the ship behind the offices on the main floor because of Kwajalein’s strict photography ban.  I also received a flood of incoming voice mails, including one from Joe naming his flight and arrival time on Guam.  It was exciting to think that in a week I’d be going home to Guam and then a few days after that I’d get to see him again.

     A few islets north of Kwaj was Ebeye, the main island inhabited by Marshallese citizens in the Kwajalein atoll.  Again we provided basic services as we had on Jaluit.  Each of the more westernized islands tended to not need the services as much.

     As the Field Ship headed east from Ebeye, I felt a sense of relief. There were still several days left in our journey, but now we would be heading in the right direction—we would be soon turn south and travel back towards Arno.  

     “What’s the itinerary for the next few days?” I asked Dougal after dinner.  He had been in a conversation with the captain, looking over several charts.  

 

     Dougal ushered me closer and pointed at the map, his finger following a path from one island to the next as he explained.  “We have three islands left to visit, provide services and deliver products.  First is Wotje, next is Maloelap, and finally is Arno.”

     “Arno?” My hand flew to my chest unbidden. For whatever reason, I had thought we would go back to Majuro and I’d have to take the Jolok boat or plane to get back home.  “I’ll be home in three days?” I squeaked

     “Yes,” Dougal said guardedly, “But you will still be serving in Arno Arno for a day before being allowed to head back to Ine after work on Monday.”

     “Does Jamie know when I’m coming?”

     “No,” Dougal responded.  “Perhaps we can radio when we are closer.”

     After our brief moment of connection the previous day, Dougal had returned to being his typical acerbic self.  It made me wonder what Jamie’s life had been like those years he was living with Dougal and Moneo. No wonder he responded so strongly to my affection for him. I sighed as I thought of him, wishing I could just put my arms around him right then.

[Originally posted by manders1984](https://tmblr.co/ZK76Um2NE4s7R)

     As I turned toward my apartment, I noticed a group of men seated around a small table holding cards.  John was in the group with a few crew members, Dr. Saul, and the Marshallese judge.

     “ _Itōk_ ,  _Ri-pālle_ ,” John said teasingly, grinning at me affectionately as he saw me approaching.  “Are you any good at cards?”

     John explained the rules, and soon I was focusing on the impossible task of remembering which cards had been played, which suit was trump and which ones I needed to discard first.  I could understand snippets of the Marshallese conversations going on at the same time as the game play, though I probably only picked out about 10% of it and by the time I’d translated and thought of something to say, they’d already moved on to a new topic.  Dr. Saul was perfectly happy to just play with the conversations as background noise.

     When I accidentally made an amazing play and went out earlier than anyone else, the men threw down their cards with a chorus of good-natured complaints and laughter.

     “I can’t do any better than that,” I exclaimed, standing to head toward my room and bed.

     “Good night, Mrs. Fraser,” John said.  “May I walk you to your cabin?”

     “I’m fine,” I retorted, turning and gesturing up toward my door, visible from where we had been playing.

     “Some of the men are drunk,” he murmured.  “Let me walk you, just because.  You are Jamie’s wife, and I would never forgive myself if something happened to you.”

     We paused outside the door of my cabin when we’d arrived upstairs.

     “I should hate you, Claire,” said John.  His remark caught me off-guard. He furrowed his brows and tried to explain. “You’ve got the heart of the man I love.”

     I was surprised by John’s bare honesty.  “Why don’t you, then?” I asked. “Hate me, I mean?”

     A wry smile brightened John’s face.  “I don’t know, exactly,” he said.  “I admire you at your work.  And even though I’m not  _attracted_  to you, you are quite lovely.”

     I blushed at the complement.

     “I see that your sense of humor and adventure would appeal to Jamie.  And more than anything I can’t change his orientation, just as I couldn’t change mine.”

     I paused, curious.  “You tried?”

     “It’s only in recent years that the Marshallese have even acknowledged homosexuality exists,” John explained.  “Some experimentation between boys was assumed to be natural, but they seemed reluctant to label men who continued to feel that attraction after their adolescence was past.”

     “Well, if it was considered natural, it seems like there would be less discrimination,” I remarked, considering the consequences of living in a culture that didn’t label homosexuality so stringently.

     “Perhaps,” John responded.  “But if there’s no name for something, people will always just assume. And they did.  They assumed I should be getting married, assumed I must be too shy to find my own girlfriend.  I was a single young man after all.  Mamas and bubus would try to match me with their daughters and granddaughters.  Sweet, kind girls, but I couldn’t do that to them. I couldn’t just enter into a partnership that could of course be  _loving_  but wouldn’t be  _love_.”

     “Ouch,” I responded. John’s description was like a gut-punch.  “I can’t imagine that sadness.  But at the same time, thinking about my ex-fiance, Eric…we loved each other.  I have to believe that we did, otherwise I wasted seven years of his life and my own. But this, what I feel for Jamie…” My voice caught in my throat and I put my hand up to my mouth, as if I could cover what I was feeling.  “I’m sorry,” I shook my head in embarrassment, tears overflowing completely without my permission. I coughed, trying to distract my body, to stop this silly display of emotion.  “This is the longest I’ve been apart from him and everything seems wrong.  Just talking about him…”

     John reached out his arms to me and gave me a hug.  Knowing what I did—that the Marshallese didn’t tend to show physical affection—made the gesture seem that much sweeter.  He patted my shoulder.  

     When I’d finally dried my eyes and withdrawn, I could see John looking at me with utter compassion.  “I’ve shed many tears of my own missing Jamie,” he admitted. “Maybe that’s why I like you. Even though you have what I want, you’re the one person on the earth who probably understands the depth of what I feel more than anyone.”

     I reached out gently and patted his shoulder, then turned and entered my stateroom.

     I turned back to him before I closed the door.  “I have to believe that you will find love, John.  A love that is mutual.  A love that a wonderful person like you deserves.”

     His eyes hinted of tears, and I couldn’t help but shed more after I entered my room, as much as I chided myself for being such a baby.

     “You’re a twenty-freakin’-seven-year-old woman, Claire,” I scolded, looking at myself in the little vanity mirror, my eyes red and my hair attempting to escape from the knot I’d tied it up in. “Stop crying.  Now.”

     Orders didn’t work. Finally I looked at the girl in the mirror with compassion.  _You’re lucky,_  I thought.   _Lucky to have someone you love so much it hurts.  But especially lucky that he loves you the same way._

     After providing services in Wotje on Saturday, we arrived on Maloelap that night.

     The next day for whatever reason, I had very few patients. Knowing that this was the last stop before Arno, I thought I might take some boil kits to the closest village and share them with any women I saw.  I had practiced my explanation so many times I could say it in my sleep.   _This is a gift from the people of Arno. If your baby doesn’t get mosquito bites, he won’t have as many boils.  Use the antiseptic and wash cloth to wash his face and hair every night, and the fingernail clippers to keep his fingernails short._

     I was heading back to the field ship having given away the last thirteen kits I’d brought, when in the opposite direction came two Caucasian guys. When they started talking I could tell right away that they were fellow Americans.

     “Where are you going, honey? I didn’t think I’d see another white girl for a whole year!” The man with dark hair smiled at me.          

     “I’m here with the field ship,” I responded, gesturing in the direction they’d come from. “I’m the Peace Corps nurse.”

     The men exchanged a glance I couldn’t understand and came a few steps closer to me.

     “I knew there was an American Peace Corps volunteer doing nursing this year.  You’re working on Arno, aren’t you?” the blonde asked. “That’s the dry island, isn’t it?”

     I nodded. “Are you Corps volunteers as well?”

     “Yeah,” said the brunette.  “We teach here.”

     “So,” posed the other, “You wouldn’t want to come have a drink with us, would you?  You must be desperate for one, if you haven’t had any alcohol since you arrived.”

     Even though their accents felt familiar, their forwardness was making me uncomfortable.

      “Actually,” I smiled, “I don’t drink. Thanks for the offer, though,” I added.

     “Come on, girlie,” the blonde one said. “Surely you’re not going to deny us your company.  We seriously haven’t talked to another American in… I don’t know… months.”

     “I’m sorry,” I said.  “I don’t know you, and I just want to go back to the ship.”

     I felt the rise of anxiety in my gut, felt my heart start to pound. I couldn’t understand why.  They were Americans.  And teachers.  How bad could they be?  But my intuition was just not comfortable.

     “Just a little while,” the taller one said. “What harm will it do to hang out with a couple of guys from back home?”

     “I’m  _married_ , and I don’t feel like it,” I responded, trying to pass by them on the path.

     “Well, I don’t see your husband here,” the brunette said, looking around casually.

     I stopped and stared at them, thinking that maybe appealing to their human decency would work. “I don’t know you, I’m a woman, and you are strangers. I’m not here to amuse you, and I’m not enjoying this.”

[Originally posted by smallscreengifs](https://tmblr.co/Z4ViGd2RJSZSd)

     “You don’t have to be a bitch,” one said.

     I was considering whether I should just blaze ahead, plan to run, or scream for help when beyond them I saw a familiar face approaching from the direction of the field ship.  Quickly gauging the situation from the men’s postures and my facial expression, John was fast to react.  He was typically soft-spoken, though he was of average height and muscular build, but the voice I heard sounded strangely deeper and bigger, yet somehow familiar.

     “Claire!” he called out. “I’ve been looking all over for you, love.” The two men stepped backward as he passed between them.  He joined me, turning to face the two, putting his arm around me possessively, and pulling me firmly into his side.

     “I’m glad to see you, babe,” I said, slipping my arm around his waist and hooking my finger through the belt loop on his shorts. “I was just heading back to the ship.”

     “If you’ll excuse us,” John said, “We’ve got to be going.” He held out his right hand as if to shake hands with the shorter of the two men, who awkwardly paused a moment and then reached out in response.

     “Have a lovely evening,” he said after he has exchanged pleasantries with the second man and then we walked away in the direction of the ship.

     “Good timing,  _babe_ ,” I said, when we were out of earshot. “Are they still watching?”

     “Ayet,” John said, still mimicking Jamie’s deep tone and resonance.

     I felt such gratitude, such relief, that I reached up to John’s cheek, pulled his face toward mine, and kissed him firmly on the lips.  He stopped walking, turning his body toward me. When he slipped me a little tongue, I hesitated, then slowly backed away from the kiss.

     John was blushing when we turned again toward the ship.

     “Sorry,” he said.  “I thought I’d try, to see if I felt anything.”

     “And did you?” I said, near giggles.

     He sighed.  “I did, but it was a vicarious something.  Knowing your lips have touched his…”

     We continued to walk arm in arm toward the beach, the sea, and the ship, and that much closer to Arno and Jamie.


	16. Reunited (and it Feels So Good)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Back on Arno. Will Jamie be there to meet her?_

     The boat trip to Arno felt like the longest one yet.  We hoisted anchor at 4:30 pm because it was around 100 miles from Airik, the southernmost island in Maloelap, to the dock in Arno Arno. Dougal told me that to his best estimate, it would take us a little more than three and a half hours to reach Arno.

     I spent a large part of those hours pacing the deck.  I couldn’t eat a bite of dinner with my stomach tied up in knots.  Every time I strolled by John, this time playing some sort of strategy board game, he would smile compassionately at me.

     Dougal had said that Jamie wasn’t on the radio at the typical call time of 7 pm.  He’d left a message with Angus and Rupert to let Jamie know I’d be arriving in just a few more hours, but it was the weekend and there were no guarantees that he would have gotten the message.

     I felt nauseated.

     It was fully dark by the time the ship’s floodlights shone on the rough cement dock and the crew leapt into action getting the boat moored to the dock and the gangplank lowered.

     I scanned the dock quickly, but everyone waiting for the ship had dark skin and dark eyes.

     I tried not to be disappointed.  After all, I still had to work on Monday.  I was going to see Jamie tomorrow evening. Twenty-four hours wouldn’t kill me, no matter how upset I felt.

     I meandered over to the crate that was serving as a game table, plopped down on the chair next to it, and helped John begin to gather the game pieces and put them into a plastic bag.

     “He’s not here,” I said quietly.

     “He will come, Claire,” John reassured me as he stood up from his chair.  “As soon as he knows you’re on the same island as him, Jamie will come.”

     I bit my lip trying to distract myself, then looked up expecting to share a sympathetic sigh with John.  Instead I saw John look over my head and his face light up.  I knew, just from watching him, that my husband had arrived. I didn’t turn; I watched Jamie’s approach on John’s countenance.

     Handsome as John was, he transformed before my eyes.  He stood up straighter, his shoulders back, his chest out. His eyes brightened.  His pupils dilated.  He smiled.

 _Am I that obvious too?_  I wondered.  Joe had talked about me getting my sparkle back.  For the first time I began to realize the source of that sparkle.  It wasn’t Arno, as much as I loved the place and the people.  It was  _Jamie_. Being with him and being loved by him made me more alive.  _Would that fade with time?_  I wondered.

     “John,” said a deep voice.  Two warm hands slid over my shoulders, and he was behind me.

     “Jamie,” I squeaked, and suddenly the longing and ache and loneliness of the past seven days, everything I’d been pushing down and distracting myself from burst to the surface.  I stood up, turned, threw my arms around him, buried my face in his chest, and started sobbing.

     “ _Mo chridhe_ ,” he whispered. “I’m here.  Don’t cry.” He held me gently, unable to caress me as he usually would, but feeling his arms around me was enough.

     I was mortified when I pulled myself away from him, but I could tell from the tender look on his face that I wasn’t the only one deeply affected by our reunion.

     I turned to John.  “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize I’d respond like that.” I met his eyes and my heart broke for him.  I don’t know that I’d ever seen heartache so visibly etched on a person’s face.  The kinship and compassion I felt towards John led me to release my grip on Jamie, who reached out to shake John’s hand.

     “ _Iiokwe, Jimjeran_ ,” Jamie smiled, his words the embrace John needed.

 _Bery good friend_ , Sharbella had explained the day Jamie had called me  _Jimjeran_.   _A friend for all of life._

     “Come,” Jamie said, smiling at John.  “I asked them to prepare refreshments for us and Dougal at the hotel.  You must join us.  It’s been far too long since we’ve talked.”

     And then he smiled down at me.  “As for you, wee one, I willna let  _you_  out of my sight.” He bent and whispered in my ear. “Truly. I have a sub for tomorrow, and a hotel room for tonight. I will not be going home until you come with me.”

     “Shall I get my suitcase, then?” I asked.

     “No’ without me, ye aren’t,” Jamie stated with certainty.  “I can help ye, anyway.”

     Little caring what anyone thought, I took his hand and led him up the stairs to my cabin.

     He was gripping my hand tighter as we climbed, and I realized that neither of us planned to just retrieve my suitcase.  After I unlocked the door and went inside, Jamie closed the door behind us and lunged for me the same instant as I leapt for him.  An awkward few moments of desperate kissing and I was sitting on my high berth, Jamie between my knees, his arms around me.

     “God, I’ve missed ye, Claire,” he groaned.  He slowed down his kisses and took my face between his hands, gazing at me and repeatedly pressing his lips to mine, then to my cheeks and forehead. “It was like the sun was gone out of my life without you around.”

     “I ached without you here to touch me,” I said.  “I even hugged your uncle, I was so desperate.”

     Jamie laughed and crushed me to his chest.  Then with a deep sigh he admitted, “I don’t think I could ever hug you tight enough to satisfy myself.  I canna wait to lie wi’ you, to be inside you, Claire.  My body wants me to ravish ye right here, but it wouldna be right.”

     I felt the same desire to make love with him, as satisfied as my heart was to just see him.  

     “Just hold me then,” I requested.  He stepped even closer and embraced me as I put my arms around him and leaned my cheek against his chest.  For a minute we paused, simply breathing in unison, letting our hearts rest and reunite.

     “They’ll notice if we’re gone too long,” Jamie said reluctantly. With his arms around me he lifted me down from the bed, took me by the hand I offered him, and grabbed my suitcase.

     I stopped at the door and turned back to look at him.  Several sun-bleached curls flopped over eyes that looked at me adoringly.  At his expression, my stomach leapt. “Oh, Jamie,” I sighed. “I’m so glad to be home.”

     In the hotel dining room there were drinks and fresh fruit, cold coconut rice and tuna.  After days of still air I felt cooler with the ceiling fans slowly turning above us. I was grateful for the fresh fruit but avoided the rice and fish.  After days of Majel food, I was feeling seriously ready for some Italian or Mexican.

     To eat without the ship surging beneath me was a relief, though it was taking me a while to get my “land legs” back.  What I was immensely aware of was Jamie’s hand on my thigh, subtly stroking me with his fingers.  As we all talked, occasionally he would turn and look at me, smile and squeeze my leg. While being completely immersed in the conversation with Dougal and John, at the same time he made me constantly aware of his desire for me and that his attention was on me.

     John had a look of aching longing on his face, of wistful desire when Jamie was talking to me or Dougal, and absolute pleasure when Jamie’s attention was on him. His eyes and smile spoke volumes about the depths of affection and admiration he felt.

     Eventually, Dougal stood up from the table.  “I believe I’ll go back to the field ship now.  Are you coming now or later, Mr. Kilmeej?”

     John looked from me to Jamie and back.  “I will be along soon.”

     The three of us stood from the table and walked out onto the patio that faced the lagoon.

     “It is so lovely to see you, John.  I’m grateful you are well,” Jamie said, sneaking an arm around my waist now that we were outside.

     “It had been too long, friend. And we must stay in contact and speak again,” John responded.

     “I canna thank ye enough for letting me know the ship was arriving here tonight,” Jamie said as he squeezed me. I turned to look up at his face.  

     “It wasn’t Rupert and Angus that told you?” I asked,

     “Nah,” Jamie responded. “John radioed several days back, to let me know you would be coming here directly, not by way of Majuro.  If Dougal called on the radio today, it was too late.  I was already in Arno, Arno by 7 this evening.”

     “ _John_ …” I said, once again touched by his sweetness.

     “You have been such a good friend to me,” Jamie said, reaching his hand out earnestly to shake John’s.  “You were there for me when I was grieving the loss of my father.”

     John smiled.  “And I will always be there for you if you need me… And for your wife as well.  If she needs to be rescued… If she needs a hug. Or a kiss.” His eyes twinkled as he grinned at me teasingly.

     Jamie looked back and forth between the two of us in confusion. I could tell I’d have a little explaining to do.

     John sighed and continued. “But I know the two of you have been apart for the longest time yet in your short marriage, and I can see on your faces that you want to be alone.”

     I blushed but looking over at Jamie saw that his face was red as well.

     “I canna deny it,” Jamie said, shaking his head with a wry smile. “And as embarrassed as I may be that I cannot conceal the way I feel, I may beg your compassion and ask to make our farewells.  I promise that we will speak again before you leave.”

     I reached out my hand to pat John’s arm in farewell, and he bent to my ear.  “Love him well for me,” he whispered.  My heart broke for him, and my eyes instantly teared up.

     “You and I have the strangest relationship,” I whispered back to him.  “And I  _will_.”

     John walked away deflated.  Watching him killed me. He felt everything I was feeling, but he had to say goodnight.  And  _I_  was going to take my husband very  _thoroughly_  to bed.

     “What was that?” Jamie asked as he guided us toward the iar, concerned to see the tears in my eyes.

     “We both love you,” I said, wiping my eyes with the back of my hand. “And he was a true friend to me on this trip.”

     Jamie stopped and turned, watching John walk away toward the dock. “I love him, too,” he said.  “But I can tell it hurts him that friendship is all that I can give him.”  He sighed deeply, then turned back to me.  “As for you, now, I have a key for a beachside bungalow with a lovely queen-sized bed.  Come with me?”

 

_***_

Jamie shut the door behind him, turned, and looked at me shyly.  “When you’ve just been married a month, a week feels like an eternity.  You almost seem a stranger.”

“I missed you,” I said, walking into his arms.  “I missed _this_.”  I inhaled and let out a quiet sigh as I smelled his familiar scent.  “God, if I never smell copra again it will be too soon.”  I sniffed him again, moving my nose toward his underarm.

Jamie laughed.  “You’re tickling me.  Whatever are you doing?”

“I’ve missed your smell,” I said, tugging at the hem of his tee shirt.  He removed his shirt, the corners of his lips quirking up.

I whimpered at the sight of him.  “Jamie, you’re so beautiful,” I said, coming close to run my hands over his chest, down his sides, and across his abdomen.

I was hungry for him, reaching up to kiss him, pushing him backward until his calves hit the bed.

“Take them off,” I ordered him, nodding towards his shorts, which he obediently removed, his eyes twinkling.  With that, I pushed him into a sitting position, stepped back, and as he watched, I untied my wrap dress, letting it fall from my shoulders.

He reached for me to pull me toward him, but instead I knelt in front of him.

“I don’t need…” he insisted, but I shook my head.

“I do,” I said.  “I need to make you feel good.  I’ve missed feeling this power.”

I tried not to dwell on comparisons, pushing them to the back of my mind.  When I was with Frank I’d occasionally give him oral on special occasions or when he asked me.  But he rarely reciprocated, and then only when I was freshly showered, so it made me feel used.

Jamie, on the contrary, got joy out of making me squeal and adored my response to him; grinning, self-satisfied, when I blinked my eyes in dazed wonder afterwards.  And I had come to enjoy it, too, the feel of soft skin on my lips and tongue, feeling him harden in response to me, the sounds he made.  I felt like a magician working a spell on him.

“Enough,” he groaned.  “You don’t get all the fun.”  He pulled me up until I was standing in front of him, which put me at exactly the right height for him to bury his face between my breasts, which he did with a contented hum.

He reached around to unfasten my bra as I eagerly pushed down my panties and then stood again in front of him.  Jamie kissed my breasts as he ran one hand up my inner thigh and caressed me with his other hand, eventually circling his arm around my waist until he had his large hand situated firmly at the small of my back.

He made a sound—almost a hungry growl—as the hand that had been stroking my thigh explored farther northward.

“Christ, Claire,” he groaned, just as I demanded, “Now, Jamie.”  He met my eyes and I nodded in affirmation.

He lifted me, laid me down, and entered me in one fluid motion.

I wasn’t usually one who could come just from intercourse but with the length of time since we’d been together and my level of sexual frustration, it was enough.

     “Oh Jamie!” I cried out, startling him momentarily.  He relaxed almost as quickly, kissed me with a grin, and began again to move within me, faster and firmer until he stiffened with his own release.

“Oh, God, I’ve missed that,” he said, after he’d caught his breath and rolled off of me, lying flat on his back.  I turned to see the adorable crinkle around his eyes and his broad smile.

“But,” he said, rolling to his elbows to kiss me firmly.  “I’ve missed _you_ even more.”

“Good save,” I giggled, stroking his cheek with my hand.

 

“So,” I mused, once we were lying together in the darkness ready to sleep.  “If you had to choose to never see me again or never make love to me again, which would you choose?”

He was silent for a moment, and then said, “I could be a monk, if you were at the nunnery next door.”

“Really?” I asked skeptically.

“Aye,” he answered, his hand creeping over my bare hip.  “But, I would expect you to leave your window open, and I would be a Very. _Naughty_. Monk.” he said, punctuating his statement with kisses.

I laughed.  Then pulling his arm over my side, I curled up in my happy place and slept.   


	17. Bitter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is another fill-in-the-blank chapter.  Claire has returned from her Field Ship trip, and she and Jamie have different ideas about what their reunion should be like... This is the last chapter before they head to Guam.

Jamie awakened early to meet the truck that would carry him to Ine in time for school, taking my suitcase with him after I’d dressed for the day.  

I walked to the ship with a lightness I hadn’t felt all week.  I’d had a pang in my stomach as I watched him ride away with the boxes of distiller parts that the ship had delivered for him, his red curls still in wet ringlets from a shower. I grinned with the memory of my involvement in said shower and reassured myself that after a day’s worth of work I would be riding the same direction with no need to be separated from my husband for the foreseeable future.

John Kilmeej grinned at me when I skipped onto the ship.  “You look a little too happy, Mrs. Fraser,” he joked.

  


_Side note:  This is my Lord John Grey (Anij John Kilmeej).  He is Roman Cress--half-Marshallese with a father who was in the Peace Corps (and didn’t stick around, just like Anij John Kilmeej’s father in my story).  He’s been in the Olympics, and since Lord John needs to be half Marshallese in my story, Dave Berry is going to have to step aside..._

 

I hugged him quickly.  “Thanks again for calling Jamie,” I said.

“It was an exercise in letting him go,” John said.  “In loving him enough to want his happiness…  _and_  yours.”  

Although Arno Arno was the community closest to the Jolok boat dock and therefore direct access to Majuro, there was still a crowd of people awaiting services.  Again I found myself dealing with skin ailments, persistent coughs, birth control injections, and the side effects of a less-than-nutritious diet: glaucoma and neuropathy, the signs of diabetes.  I was able to share the last of the boil prevention kits as I weighed babies and gave immunization shots.  And the candy jar was emptied and refilled several times as I attempted to make peace with teary-eyed toddlers after immunizations.

We wrapped up with the services for the day at three, but before then I had already straightened up the clinic between patients.  With a last wipe-down of surfaces, I hesitantly found Dougal to see if he had any other tasks for me.

“Let’s chat, Mrs. Fraser,” he said, inviting me into the main office where the Marshallese judge had worked all week.  He sat down at the desk, gesturing for me to sit at the chair across from him. 

“Well, Claire,” he said while nodding at me, his forehead wrinkled, “you’ve proven to be quite an asset this week.”

  


[Originally posted by mametupa](http://tmblr.co/ZyiRRv1SqSkxA)

I tried not to display my shock at the compliment.  “Thank you, sir.”

“I heard many good things from the residents about the new UniServe nurse.  They especially appreciated your efforts to speak Majel when you could.  I can see how valuable you are, and how well you interact with the women and children.”

He looked pained and uncomfortable, as if he wanted to say something.

“I’m glad to hear it,” I said encouragingly.

“Claire,” he said.  “You deserve an apology.  I was too concerned over perception, not realizing your value as a nurse and how much time you’d put into developing relationships with the women on the island. I know you said that you weren’t holding a grudge—that you and Jamie belonged together.  However, I overstepped the bounds of appropriate leadership, and I allowed you to feel pressured to get married.  I know you don’t seem to regret it now, but I certainly hope you don’t come to regret it in the future.  Will you forgive me?”

I was surprised to hear him reiterate his apology when I truly didn’t feel the need for it.  How honest should I be?

“Mr. MacKenzie,” I said, “I meant it when I said that there’s nothing to forgive.  Unless you feel like you were harsh with me—which you were—so I guess if that’s the case, yes, I’ll forgive you.”

I looked at him with a half-smile.  He really didn’t get it.

“You know your nephew is amazing, don’t you?” I asked, forcing myself to stop at that.  Dougal deserved my restraint. He didn’t need to hear my thoughts of how how skilled Jamie was as a teacher, how caring as a friend, how enthusiastic as a lover.

I sat in trepidation, waiting to hear him tell me the field ship was off on a year-long journey and I was going to be the full-time nurse, but finally he shook his head and smiled.  

“Well, lass, welcome to the family. I think my sister would have liked ye.  I ken my brother-in-law would.”

 

When Jamie arrived with the truck, John and I met him. But that’s when my expectations started going awry.

“John, would you consider staying on for another day?” Jamie asked.  “I have new solar panels to put up on the roof, I need to patch our catchment, and I want to set up a solar distillery as well. I could use an extra set of hands.”

He didn’t notice me making questioning eye contact with him.  Where exactly did he expect John to stay?

“I wouldn’t want to trouble you,” John answered, in a way that indicated that while Jamie hadn’t noticed my facial expression, John  _had_.  “Could I stay at the UniServe school, perhaps?  Or maybe in the clinic?  I seem to recall there is a hospital bed in there.”

“We will figure something out.  We really want ye to stay.  I’ll make pizza like I used to when we were in college,” Jamie said beguilingly.

That temptation appeared to be the final argument, and John smiled and nodded.  “I’ll be able to head back to Majuro on Wednesday afternoon, as long as the Jolok boat leaves as scheduled.  I needed to be home by Thursday, at the latest.”

“Excellent,” said Jamie.  “Well, will ye pack up your things and come along then?  I would love to head back to the house so we can begin dinner preparations and make plans for what to do tomorrow.”

John went back on the boat, and I turned to Jamie with irritation.

“Why did you just invite John to stay with us?  I haven’t be with you in a whole week, and you’ve pretty much guaranteed that we’re going to have company late into the evening tonight.”

Jamie stared at me, dumbfounded. “John is my friend.  I haven’t seen him for a year or more.  And he’s willing to help make improvements to our house. How else am I supposed to get these projects done before heading to Guam?”

  


[Originally posted by nighean--donn](http://tmblr.co/ZYNPbw2IhM8HG)

“Still, today?” I shook my head and frowned.  All day I’d been imagining the many ways this evening could proceed; having John with us was not one of them.

Jamie was glaring at me when I looked back at him.  “Does John have another trip out here planned soon? I canna imagine what is upsetting you so.”

“I just thought you might prefer me to anyone else.  That you might want to spend  _time_  with me.” I looked away from him, gritting my teeth in irritation. The thing is, he totally made sense, but that didn’t stop me from having a lump in my throat.

“Aye, of course I plan to spend time wi’ ye,” Jamie responded.  “But that’s not what’s essential right now. Fresh water.  That,  _Ri-pālle_ , is essential.”  Jamie had fallen away from calling me “selfish white person” as often, and right now it sounded derisive on his lips.  

“Sex,” he added in a half-whisper, “may be pleasant, but it isna the most important thing right now.”

  


“Well, I’m not feeling very loved,” I hissed, watching as John headed down the gangplank onto the dock.

Jamie narrowed his eyes and shook his head in bewilderment.  “I promised your da that I would take care of you. Loving you well?  To me that means I should be providing for you. This is important. You are my family right now.  And I take your safety seriously.”

“But Jamie,” I insisted, trying to finish sharing my thoughts before John reached us.  “I’ve been dreaming about being with you.  Last night was nice, but I don’t want you just once. I thought you’d put me first.”

John had reached us by then, and Jamie took his suitcase from him, tossing it up into the bed of the truck and urging him into the front seat of the car.

“Claire and I havena been together in a while,” he said in response to John’s questioning look.

As the truck rumbled toward Ine, Jamie leaned toward me, keeping his voice low.  “You think I’m no’ putting ye first.  I  _am_  putting ye first.  Don’t you see?  I want ye to have fresh water to drink and a safe house during storms.  We’re going through drought right now, but we will be heading into rainy season.  You have never been through a tropical storm here.”

“I’ve been through typhoons,” I argued.

“Certainly,” Jamie said condescendingly.  “Ye’ve been through a typhoon.  On Guam. In a reinforced concrete home.  You’ve never seen the ocean encroaching on the land or dealt with the after-effects of severe wind and high water.  Ye dinna ken what a foe the elements can be here.  I do.  Can you trust me even if my priorities seem to be different than your own?”

I sighed and rubbed my face with my hands.  I’d been so excited to see Jamie, so anxious to be around him again.  And as I looked at him, I still felt the same way.  Despite the heat, I snuggled into his side.  It didn’t feel as much like a fight if we were close to each other. I tried to explain.  “Jamie, I just always felt in second place in Frank’s life. I don’t like being ignored, and I don’t like feeling unimportant.”  

I felt him kiss me on the top of my head and then heard him laugh ruefully.  “Unimportant? Claire… Are you serious?  Why am I doing this?  To make sure the water my wife drinks is pure and fresh.  To make sure the house my wife lives in wi’ me is safe in a storm.  Christ, I’m losing my patience with ye, Claire.  I dinna have time to coddle you right now.  I am not Frank.”

“I know,” I said, shaking my head. I looked up at Jamie, only to see him also shaking his head in bewilderment.  

He looked me in the eyes, his lips in a lopsided half-smile. “Claire,” he sighed.  “Don’t you trust me?  I’m still going to want you even after spending a day wi’ John.  I’m not going to suddenly decide I’m gay because I’ve spent time with a good friend.”

He squeezed my shoulders and looked away with a satisfied smile on his face.  In his mind, the issue was resolved.  

Internally, I kept stewing.  As much as I appreciated Jamie’s kindness and generosity, he appeared to have a complete blindness to the fact that we had been apart for over a week now, and I wasn’t particularly interested in waiting until a guest had left late at night to be affectionate with him again.

In fact, it was just as bad as I imagined.  When we arrived at the house, Jamie quickly whipped up a batch of pizza dough while talking to John, and then the two sat down at the kitchen table with pencil and paper, making plans for the solar distillery and then designing the necessary component parts.  Jamie would still be teaching on Wednesday, so the two of them created a list of things for John to do to prepare so they could work together efficiently when he got home from school.

Finally I decided I needed to stop feeling jealous and get something done. Since Jamie appeared to be taking care of dinner, I needed to do the laundry from the week.  I huffed a little as I strode around getting the wash tub, scrubbing board and brush and the laundry hamper, as I struggled with the coffee bucket (realizing it was time for a new one) to draw the water for washing from the well, and as I squatted by the tub, beginning to scrub the necklines and underarms of a few of Jamie’s dirty shirts.

I was grumpily scrubbing away by the well when a musical voice called out, “Iiokwe, Miss Peachay!”

I looked toward the road to see Leika holding a little bundle in her arms.  

“Itōk!” I exclaimed, welcoming her and baby Peach to the grassy area where I was sitting.  I peeked into the sling Leika had Peach wrapped in and saw a bright-eyed little infant with flyaway black hair sticking up from her scalp.

  


Leika could see the request on my face, so she reached into the sling and extricated the little limbs and body, then handed Peach over to me. As I held the little girl, Leika motioned toward the laundry and shooed me away from my spot by the scrubbing board.

“You hold her,” she said as she squatted and started scrubbing firmly with the brush.  While I knew the clothes would get more wear from that kind of treatment, I was happy to coo at Peach and to see her bright eyes watching my face intently.

“Is she nursing well?” I asked Leika.

“Ayet,” she nodded.

“May I weigh her?” I asked, pointing toward the clinic, “to make sure she’s gaining enough weight?”

Leika nodded cheerfully, wringing out the shirt she’d been working on and tossing it in to the laundry basket, waving for me to take Peach as she turned to the next garment.

The fact that Peach was right at her birth weight didn’t worry me too much.  After all the time of being attached to mom and easily gaining nutrition and energy during the whole of a pregnancy, babies have a tendency to lose a little weight naturally right after birth, but after a few weeks, they begin to gain weight again. Peach had a nice pink flush to her tan skin, so I assumed she must be getting enough food.

“Are you able to sleep at night?” I asked Leika, once I’d returned to my outdoorsy laundry room.  She had shaken her head in refusal when I offered to exchange Peach for the scrub brush.

“ _Elap an bwil_ ,” she had said, tugging the front of her dress out to circulate air and cool herself down.[[1]](https://www.tumblr.com/dashboard#_ftn1)  “Holding Peach make me bery hot.”

I smiled and laid the little girl in front of me on my outstretched legs.  She was in a little onesie inside of the flannel blankets and when I unwrapped her she wiggled, seeming to enjoy the feeling of the air around her.  Though it was a hot, still day, in the shade it was comfortable.

As I continued to admire Peach, Maria came wandering in from the road. She squatted by Leika and eyed me critically.

“ _Etke būrōmōj_? Why you are sad?” Maria asked.

I translated my instant thought word by word and then slowly recited the sentence I had formulated: “ _Mister Shamie ejjab konaan pad ippa_.” It had taken a bit of mental effort to remember how to say ‘he doesn’t want to be with me,” so I was offended when Maria laughed outright.  For a Marshallese person, that seemed entirely rude.  

“Meester Shamie lof you bery much,” she said, shaking her head with lowered eyebrows. “Ebery day, he say, ‘Five days, Miss Peachay come home again.’ ‘Tree days, Miss Peachay come home again.’ ‘Tomorrow, Miss Peachay come home.’” She looked at me skeptically.  “ _Kwōn jab melele_.”

“I don’t understand?”

“Yes, Miss Peachay,” Leika agreed. “You  _don’t_  understand.  Meester Shamie…”  Her eyes widened as she tried to come up with the words.  Finally, she shook her head again, mumbling to herself.  I didn’t understand much, but I did understand “ _lukkuun bwebwe_.”  That meant “very crazy.” She reached out and patted my leg with a slightly soapy wet hand.  

“He lof you,” she reassured me. “Bery much.   _Jab būrōmōj. Kwōn mōnōnō_. Don’t be sad. You should be happy.”

I shook my head as I looked off toward the lagoon.  They were both right.  What was making me be such a whiny bitch?

 

The evening passed quickly.  After I hung up my thoroughly scrubbed laundry and reluctantly relinquished Peach to her mother’s arms, I went inside to find the pizza was done. We ate, and then Jamie and John continued to talk and work, drifting in and out of Marshallese which made me feel jealous and possessive.  I had grown to really like John but seeing him get all heart-eyed at Jamie stirred feelings of bitterness.

When John finally grabbed the sheets and blanket I offered and left our apartment to set himself up in the hospital bed in the clinic, the irritation I’d felt earlier flared.  I could see on Jamie’s face that he expected us to just fall into bed, but I continued to putter around, doing the dishes, putting away my things from the journey. He was sitting on the bed holding a book as if he was reading, but I could sense his eyes following me as I banged around the kitchen and stomped around the house.

“Claire,” he said quietly.

I ignored him, picking up the dish towel to dry the dishes and put them away.

“Claire,” he said more firmly.  “ _Itōk, Ri-pālle_.”

I stood still for a second, wishing I was stronger, wishing I could ignore him.  Finally I put down the dishtowel and walked across to sit on the bench facing our bed.

“What is wrong?” Jamie asked.  

“John LOVES you.  He wants you. But you’re mine!” I said.  I couldn’t meet his eyes.

Jamie was silent for several minutes.  When I finally looked at him, he had a look of utter consternation on his face. “Hen,” he said.  “You dinna ken how mad about you I am. While you were gone, I ached for you every day. I dreamed about ye every night.  Do you realize that I didna sleep well the whole time you were gone?” He shook his head and laughed in dismay.  “I reached for you in the night repeatedly.  I woke up clinging to your pillow.  Dammit, I cried from the ache of missing you.  I am desperately in love with you.  Don’t be foolish, Claire. I willna be leaving your bed to go to his.”

“I know,” I said, realizing how silly it seemed.

“I would keep you in my bed as my prisoner for the foreseeable future. But that is selfish.  That is not thinking of your good. Marriage—our marriage—matters to me.  But marriage is not just with my body I thee worship, as much as you love it.  There’s a whole list of vows.  Love, honor, cherish. Protect. I take it seriously. And I willna let my desire for you overshadow the more important things that mean I love you.  Like providing fresh water and a safe home.”

It was my turn to sit there silently.  He was right, of course.  Sometimes I really hated it when he seemed more mature than me.  I ran my hand over the surface of the table, suddenly remembering.

“What did you think of the gift I left you?” I asked bluntly, turning back to him.

Jamie blushed. “It was…” he shook his head, wide-eyed.  “It was somethin’, that’s for certain. I didna even make it partway through.”

  


“You didn’t like it?” I asked, distressed.

“N-n-no..” Jamie stuttered. “I meant… I didn’t even make it  _partway through_ … before I,” he dropped his voice to a whisper, “ _near exploded_.  It was too much for my brain to handle.  This little pint-sized, naked, sexy wife of mine…”

“Did you watch it later, then?”

He laughed wryly, “I tried, once more, when I was desperate and missing ye.  It wasn’t wrong.  You  _are_  my wife.  But it was so  _empty_. Wi’out you there to touch, to kiss… it only made me miss you more.  A million other men would think me daft, but I deleted it.”

I looked at Jamie curiously.  I truly couldn’t get my head around him.  For a moment I wondered whether he was lying to me.  What red-blooded male would delete a video of his wife pleasuring herself?

  


He could see the look on my face, and he tried to explain, standing up from the bed and walking over to sit by me with our arms touching.  “ _Ri-pālle_ , for me making love to you is all-encompassing.  I can look at you, touch you and kiss you, give you pleasure. I feel my power.  And then to enter you, for you to take me inside yourself, to surrender yourself to me, to share your body with me.  There’s no comparison to that.”

My heart constricted at his words. I turned to look at him.

“I hope that’s fine, Claire,” Jamie said, looking down.  “I feel selfish about you.  Your body, your pleasure is for my eyes only.  I can see how something like that might fall into the wrong hands.

“Oh, Jamie,” I said. “Fine? You are truly extraordinary.”

He blushed bashfully.  “Come, now. I already waited years.  I figured I could wait a few more days.”

I put my arm around him and lifted my lips for a kiss.  “Come, Jamie.  Let’s go to bed.”

  


He looked at me shyly.  Suddenly my competent, expert, mature husband again appeared his age.  “Aye,” he said, nodding. “But I  _was_  thinking, if you’d do that again, wi’ me  _here_ , I  _would_  like that.  Knowing that after I’ve watched ye, I’ll still be able to have you.”

I raised my eyebrows at him. “That would be embarrassing.”

“What were you thinking about as you did it then?” he asked.

I looked in his eyes.  “ _You_.”

He led me over to the bed, helping me slip off my dress and lie down.

“Close your eyes,” he said, stepping away to rest against the table. “Think about me again.”


	18. Hopping to Guam

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heading to Guam for Christmas with Claire's family

 

     “What are the two of _you_ doing here?”

     Jamie and I had found seats in the waiting area of the Majuro airport and I was locating the motion sickness medicine in my bag to give to him when a strangely familiar voice spoke from behind us.

     Jamie turned and saw him first. When I saw Jamie’s expression, I swiveled my body in the slippery plastic chair to see John Kilmeej standing there. 

     After staring at him in shock, Jamie finally sputtered, “Why, we’re going to Guam to visit Claire’s family for Christmas.  I might ask ye the same thing.  What are _you_ doing here?”

     John blinked in amazement, smiling.  “Visiting my aunt and uncle who live on Guam for a week, for Christmas.”

     “Well, fancy meeting you here, John!” I said.  Happy to see my new friend after our week on the field ship, I trotted around the bank of chairs to give him a side-hug, then took him by the hand to bring him back to sit by us.

     He and Jamie shook hands, and then John sat in a chair across from us. He shook his head, his eyes shining, looking at Jamie.

     Looking across at the handsome man who I had a feeling was still _quite_ in love with my husband, I suddenly thought of another handsome man who would be arriving on Guam in a matter of days. A newly _single_ man who had told me he was waiting for a _nice_ _guy_ …

     “If you’re not busy the whole time, John,” I offered casually, “We’d love to get together with you there.  I’m planning on showing Jamie the island, and we will probably be going on some hikes, caving, waterfalls… going out snorkeling.”

     “I wouldn’t want to intrude,” John replied, a hopeful smile on his face. 

     “Intrude?  The more the merrier,” I replied.  I met Jamie’s eyes and was glad to see the invitation had pleased him. “I’ve got a younger sister and a brother Jamie’s age who are both in college.  They will probably have lots of friends around, and my best friend from Boston is coming over as well.” 

     John brought out his cell, and as we waited for departure we entered info into each other’s devices.  It was strange to have coverage at all, and handy to not have to search through my luggage for a scrap of paper.

     “What took your uncle and aunt to Guam?” I asked, once we’d returned our devices to pocket & purse.

     “They’re climate change refugees, I guess you could say,” John responded.  “They lived on one of the outer islands that was particularly low-lying.  During the king tide three years ago, salt water swept over their property.  It destroyed their home, ruined the groundwater supply, and killed over half of the coconut trees that they depended on for their livelihood.  My cousin had already gone to Guam for college, so they moved over to be with him.  They both found jobs—my auntie works at a day care and my uncle works for a sport fishing company, taking tourists out to catch huge mahi-mahi.”

     “I am glad to hear they have found work,” Jamie said compassionately, “but it must be hard to move from an outer island to a westernized place.”

     “Ayet,” John nodded. “My mother speaks of moving to be with them.  She believes I will not stay in Majuro forever. And if she goes, other than my friendships and my heritage tying me here, I wonder what I will do.”

     We sighed together, rescued from depressing thoughts by the announcement that they were beginning boarding for United Air flight 154.

 

     After boarding our plane in Majuro just a little before noon, we flew for over an hour, landing in Kwajalein on the Army base.  Just as we hadn’t been allowed to photograph the base when we were on the field ship, we were required to stay on the plane during the half hour layover after which we flew for two hours to Pohnpei (Ponape).  After another half-hour on the ground we flew to Chuuk, had yet another thirty-minute layover to deplane and re-board, and finally sat through the final two-hour flight to Guam.

     It didn’t matter how long it had been since Jamie had flown, nor did it matter how much motion sickness medication he had taken.  Having to deal with four take-offs and four landings within eight hours was a recipe for gastrointestinal disaster.

     He leaned forward in the cramped space with his forehead resting on the back of the seat in front of him.  I had lifted the arm rest between us because it gave him a little extra leg room and the comfort of contact with me. Providing him extra room hadn’t taken care of the nausea, though. His skin had taken on a grayish hue, and he was sweating slightly.

     “Babe, I’m so sorry,” I said, rubbing his neck. By the time we finally approached the airport on Guam and I viewed the strange hourglass shape of the island and the familiar red clay hills, Jamie looked so queasy I made sure I had the provided airsickness bag at the ready in case he didn’t make it through the final descent.

 

     When we had collected our bags and gone through customs, walking to the arrivals area I could finally see my father’s salt and pepper hair and then spotted my brother and my sister. 

     Daddy stepped forward first, giving me and then Jamie each a tight hug.  “Welcome home, baby.  Good to see you again, son,” he said.  Jamie flushed, and turned to Seth and Shelly, both standing behind Dad.

     “Hey, man,” Seth said, reaching out to shake Jamie’s hand, sizing him up.  Frank and Seth had been too far apart in age to really connect, and personality-wise they had little in common. I was curious if Seth thought Jamie too young for me, if he’d think he wasn’t man enough to marry his sister, but after he released Jamie’s hand he met my eyes.  “You’ve married a giant!” he exclaimed.

     Jamie bent to my ear and whispered quietly, “Ye didna happen to mention that Seth and Shelly were adopted.”

     I looked over at my brother; his smile, brown skin and close cropped black curls so familiar.  Shelly stood behind him, shyly peeking over at Jamie, beautiful long curly brown hair with reddish highlights, big brown eyes, and the distinct nose and arched eyebrows that revealed her half-Samoan heritage.

     “Don’t I have a picture of my family on my dresser?” I whispered back.

     “Aye, _now_ I realize you do. But it isna a composed shot.  You were all in goofy poses and making funny faces, so I didna realize it was your _family_.  I thought it was just a bunch of your friends.  Ah well, no matter.”

     I glanced up to see that he was flushing in embarrassment, but he managed to cover it by reaching his hand out toward Shelly. “Nice to meet you, lass,” he said. Then Jamie looked around, asking, “Where’s Robin?”

     “Mom’s making dinner at home,” Shelly offered. “She assumed you’d be starved, of course.”

     “You know Mom. She’s German.  She’s gotta make sure everyone’s fed,” Seth said, reaching out to take Jamie’s duffle bag.  “Here, man, let me take that.  You still look a little green.”

     Jamie nodded, putting his arm about my waist.  As we headed out toward the car, Shelly pointed surreptitiously at my husband as he looked away and mouthed, “ _He’s hot_!”

     I grinned back at her.

     Daddy led the way, Seth and Jamie easily falling into a conversation about college and volunteer work and living in the islands. Shelly, meanwhile, kept on shaking her head at me.  “You’ve got some explaining to do, Claire,” she said.  “I mean, I _get_ it.  Just _look_ at him.  But still!”

     Once in the parking lot we stuffed everything into the minivan and crawled into the seats, with Jamie taking shotgun reluctantly only after Seth refused it and I beat him into the bucket seat behind the passenger seat.  I knew he needed to be in the front.  The roads on Guam followed the contours of the land, and that meant they weren’t straight.

     We left the airport and Dad turned us north toward the Air Force Base, Yigo, and home.

     I leaned forward to point things out to Jamie as we passed them.  What I noticed first was the smell of vehicle exhaust, but after months of silence out on Arno, I was most overwhelmed by the chaos, the noise, and the traffic. I put my hand on Jamie’s shoulder and felt calmer as he reached up and grabbed my hand with his.

     Thirty minutes later we were pulling up to my family’s tan flat-roofed two-story home just outside the base.  There was a bit more space between properties out here which was what Mom preferred, so they had chosen not to live in base housing.  Through the years she and my dad had made use of their backyard space.  They had built garden boxes for beans, tomatoes, and okra; planted banana plants and papaya trees, and there was a gorgeous avocado tree right by the car port.

     When we entered the house, I was met with the fragrance of fir.  Despite the crazy expense, for years it had been our one holiday splurge.  We could have purchased a decently lovely faux tree with Christmas lights already wired in.  But Amy and I had always insisted that if we weren’t going to have snow, we needed a Christmas tree.  And so Daddy shelled out two to three times what a tree would cost in the states for one shipped over in a refrigerated cargo container.  Often it was a little scraggly and the needles would drop almost instantly, but that smell meant Christmas.

     Mom appeared from the kitchen, bringing along a wake of delicious dinner smells.  She threw her arms around me.  “Welcome home, kiddo,” she said, squeezing me close.  Then she turned to Jamie.  “And to you, too,” she said. “Welcome home, Jamie.”

     Jamie hugged my mom as well. 

     “Dinner’s almost ready, kids,” Mom said.  “Shels, will you set the table?  And Seth, I was hoping you’d make a salad.” She had turned back toward the kitchen and noticed Jamie and I standing there still waiting for instructions.  “Look at the two of you, so well trained,” she chuckled.  “ _Your_ job is to get your things moved into the guest room upstairs.”

     Jamie and I grabbed our bags and took them upstairs. The downstairs of our home housed the living room, kitchen, and dining room, as well as the laundry room and my parents’ master suite.  Upstairs were the other three bedrooms and bathrooms, Seth’s room facing north, the room I used to share with Amy facing south, and Shelly’s room in between. 

     When Amy and I had moved away to go to college in the states, my parents had removed the two twin beds and replaced them with a queen-sized bed to use the room as a guest room.  However, there were still hints of the two of us around the room. Some of my clothes and a couple pairs of shoes remained in the back of the closet, and the paint was still a feminine pale purple.

     Jamie walked around the room curiously, picking up a few objects, pulling the Twilight novels off the bookshelf and making a face at me.

     “I was 17 when the movie came out,” I explained.

     “Let me guess… team Jacob?” he asked, holding the book up and grinning.

     I glared back at him. “Are you making fun of me?”

     He sat down on the edge of the bed and bounced.  “This could be a first for me, too.”

     “You _must_ be feeling better if you’re coming on to me,” I retorted, unpacking my suitcase into the tall distressed white dresser.  “Are you implying that you need the experience of having sex in a girl’s bedroom?”

     “Of course,” he said.  “Though, were you the kind of girl that had boy band posters in your room? I admit, I will be quite disappointed to not be doing it in the view of the handsome gentlemen of One Direction.”

     “You mean the Jonas Brothers, don’t you?” I kidded in response, shaking my head.

 

     After dinner, the family sprawled on the couches in the living room, Shelly curled up between Mom and Dad with Mom running her fingers through her long curls, Seth monopolized the recliner, and Jamie and I squished together on the love seat.

     Jamie and I shyly retold portions of our story—Jamie's accident, Samhain, Maxson, and a brief mention of Frank breaking up with me.  We both seemed cautious about what we said, frequently making eye contact before answering questions.

     It was probably 8:30 Guam time when Jamie and I both started yawning.  After our fifth consecutive yawn, my mom laughed. 

     “Go to bed, you two,” she said.  “Majuro is two hours ahead of us.  There will be plenty of time for visiting tomorrow.”

     We tiredly headed up to bed, stepping into the bathroom to brush our teeth.  The wide expanse of white tile surrounding the two sinks was foreign, as were the brilliant LED lights and the gigantic mirror.  Jamie sucked in his stomach and turned sideways.

     “Am I getting pudgy, Claire?” he asked, eyeing himself critically.  “I dinna think I’m jogging enough.  And maybe I’m eating too much.”

     I cocked my head to look at him in the mirror. “Sure look handsome to me,” I grinned, coming closer to him, putting my fingers inside the waistband of his shorts and pulling him toward me. “Have I shown you my bedroom, boyfriend?”

     “ _I’m just going to read before bed, Mom,”_ I heard Shelley’s voice call from the top of the stairs. We paused, listening to her tromp down the hallway, shut her bedroom door, and turn on her radio.

     I returned to the matter at hand, only to discover that Jamie seemed incredibly uncomfortable when I pressed myself against him. 

     “Your sister,” he said, pausing to demonstrate that we could clearly hear her music.  “She might hear us.  She’s only nineteen, ye ken.”

     “I think she’s sexually active, Jamie,” I said.  “And she knows we’re married.”

     “Still,” he said, leaving the bathroom and heading toward the bed, frowning and shaking his head.  “I dinna think… I _am_ quite tired, after all… and my stomach still hasn’t settled very well.”

     I stared at him, amused. “ _You’re_ saying no to sex?  Well, there’s a first time for everything,” I said, chuckling.  I turned off the light and crawled into the bed.  “And there are still seven more days where you might just get lucky in a girl’s bedroom.”

     “Aye,” Jamie said, cuddling his body around mine.  “But I do have to say, air conditioning makes holding you close much more comfortable.”

     After a few minutes of silence, I felt a hand creep subtly underneath my tank top.  Shortly thereafter my husband whispered, “Well, Claire, if you can _promise_ to be _very, very_ quiet…”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hadn't planned on making Seth and Shelly adopted, but the inspiration came to me because MY two sons are adopted. Their racial backgrounds are in honor of my boys as well. My oldest is half-Samoan, my younger son is half-African-American.
> 
> Back in the 80s when I lived with my family on Guam, we were spending $75 for Christmas trees. The 80s! An online calculator says that's about $170 in today's dollars. One Christmas we even went out during the eye of a typhoon to get our Christmas tree. My dad really loved us girls... 
> 
> I actually had to do research for this chapter--research on which boy bands were popular in 2006-2008, and when Twilight and the Hunger Games books came out... What we do for fanfic, amiright? As I am in my mid-40s, it would have been posters of Wham! and Menudo (popular on Guam at the time--with baby Ricky Martin. Hmmm. Ricky Martin, George Michael... I really know how to pick them, don't I?) Maybe THAT's why I love Lord John so much...


	19. Family Beach

_The basics–Claire is a nurse in the Marshall Islands.  Now that Claire & Jamie are married, they’re adjusting to life together, and right now they’r on Guam for Christmas with Carlie’s family._

 

**_[Read the revised, improved, de-Outlandered version of book one on Kindle!](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Ftinyurl.com%2FIsland-fever-2018&t=NTkxMWZmMjM4N2EwZmMyMjc1YzY2YWM5YWJhYzM2MGQ3MWI4YjNjMCxEMnNHeU15eg%3D%3D&b=t%3ApBABLT-VvOvXHhVWaraIIg&p=https%3A%2F%2Fbetweensceneswriter.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F174134224417%2Fif-loving-you-sarong-i-dont-want-to-be-right-if&m=1) _ **

* * *

 

     “Morning, sleepy head,” sang my mom as I shuffled into the kitchen on Saturday morning.  The smell of coffee had pulled me out of bed, though when I woke up Jamie wasn’t there with me and he wasn’t in the shower or downstairs in the kitchen either.

    I poured myself a cup from the pot, splashed in some creamer, and sat down at the table.  Dad was at his customary post at the stove, scrambling eggs and frying up sausages.

    “Claire,” caroled Shelly, leaning over to give me a hug from behind as she came into the kitchen.  “You have no idea how much I’ve missed you, Sissy!”

    I grabbed her arms and hugged her close, her cheek against mine, a lump in my throat.  I’d learned through the years not to get homesick.  When separated by thousands of miles, by a full 24-hour-day’s journey by plane, missing family wasn’t really an option.  But now that I was close to them, now that I saw my beautiful sister in her rumpled pajama pants and tee shirt sit down at the table I was near tears.

    “So,” said Shelly, leaning toward me with her chin on her fist.  “Tell me again how I really need to get to know a guy before I…um…  _date_  him?!”  She wrinkled her nose and suppressed a smile as she pulled her mass of curls back and fastened it into a ponytail with a hairband.  “How long did you know Jamie before you got married?”

    “Three weeks… and four days,” I mumbled into my coffee cup.

    Shelly stared at me.  “ _Three and a half weeks_ ,” she repeated, intoning every word.  “And you’ve been married…?”

    “I think six?” Mom said, stepping over to the calendar on the wall.  She flipped back to November, revealing a much-scribbled upon November 10th.  My mom had a way of standing by the calendar and doodling on it while she talked to people on the phone.  It was apparent from the frantic scribbles that the phone call from me and Jamie had inspired a  _lot_  of artwork.  She counted the weeks.  “Yep, six yesterday.”

    Shelly shook her head and sighed. She wrinkled her forehead and considered my face for a while, then looked down at her plate where Dad had just served her two sausages and a spoonful of eggs.  Finally she looked back at me and smiled.

    “Well, you know, eventually Frank did grow on us…” she said.

    “Like a  _fungus_ ,” interjected Seth, jogging in from the car port on the tail end of Shelly’s sentence. He was panting and sweaty, followed closely by Jamie, also red-faced and grinning.  “What grew on you, Shels?” Seth asked, planting a kiss on my head as he walked by, trying to rub some of his sweat onto me.

    I squirmed and groaned, and then Shelly and I stared at each other, blank-eyed.

    “What grew on you?”  Seth repeated; he wasn’t letting it go.

    “Broccoli,” answered my mother, with a sly smile at Shelly. “You know it took her a while to start liking it.”

    I shook my head and met Jamie’s eyes.  “No, it’s okay, guys.   _Frank_ ,” I said.  “Frank grew on her.”

    “Aye,” Jamie said, frowning.  “He does have a history with your family.  I mean, seven years, right, Claire?”  Then he looked around the room, glancing at each of us.  “But I guess your daughter… your  _sister_  chose  _me_ , and I can hope I will also grow on all of you, too.”  We remained silent, sharing small smiles.  “Like a  _fungus_ ,” he finished with a grin, punching Seth in the shoulder before heading down the hall to go upstairs.

    Seth nodded at me before he followed Jamie.  “He’s all right, that one,” he said.  “But just so you know, I’m already on Team Jamie.”

    I felt myself relaxing as if I’d been holding my breath and could finally stop, but the emotions I’d been holding in overtook me and I crumpled into tears.

    Shelly’s face melted with compassion.  “Oh, Carlie,” she said, coming over to give me another hug. “We just want you  _happy_.  You know that’s what matters to us, right?”

    “I just,” I wiped my eyes, looking at my mom and dad.  “I just hated the thought of disappointing you. Or you judging me for not staying with Frank.  It’s like a divorce, I guess.  And you guys have stuck it out through tough stuff.” They were looking at me compassionately. “Are you disappointed in me?”

    Dad, who had been silent this whole time, finally spoke.  “Never, Carlie Anne,” he said.  “We love you no matter what.”

    “And sweetie,” offered my mom, “Look around.  Jamie is  _already_  an important part of our family.”

    “Thanks, guys,” I said.  “I’ll be back in just a bit.”  I retreated upstairs and into Jamie’s arms. It had been weighing heavily on both of us, I realized, as I looked into his eyes and relayed the rest of the conversation. He was misty-eyed as we stood and held each other a bit more.  Finally I left him to his shower and went downstairs to eat breakfast before my dad’s amazing eggs got cold, feeling fortified by both an awesome breakfast and my awesome family.  

  


[Originally posted by nordic-sassenach](http://tmblr.co/ZcqNnl25GAH4M)

 

    “You’re wearin’  _that_?  In  _public_?”

    Dad and Seth had decided that Campbell needed to experience Guam windsurfing. The forecast called for steady afternoon wind, so our plan was to head to Family Beach on the Glass Breakwater where there was a decent beach, good snorkeling, and a sheltered harbor that allowed adequate wind but provided gentle seas for a beginning windsurfer.

    “Do ye want me to be walking around erect?” Jamie continued, strolling in a circle around me, ogling me.  “I can see the shape of your nipples.  I can see the entire curve of your breast.”

  


[Originally posted by mametupa](http://tmblr.co/ZyiRRv25BwPi-)

 

    “Prepare yourself,” I retorted, as Jamie reached a finger down and drew it along the narrow tie at my hip. I shivered at his touch and nearly got distracted mid-sentence.  “There are going to be all kinds of bodies in bikinis at the beach.”

    “I’m no concerned about how I’ll feel about other girls’ bodies.  Through the years I’ve gotten used to just looking away. But you’re the one I can  _have_.”  

    I narrowed my eyes at him, glancing at him over my shoulder.  “You can  _have_  me, can you?”

    “Aye,” he said.  “I  _can_.” He smiled at the way his husky voice made me shiver.  “When it comes to you, I dinna react the same way; I can’t think the same way. I look at this,” he said as he stopped behind me, running his finger under the string tie over my shoulder, “and I ken that I can do this.”  He lowered his lips to my neck, pressed his body to me, and groaned as he reached around to cup my breasts.

 

    I trembled at his touch and at the evidence that I’d already made a deep impression on him.  I was ready to have him undo the strings of my bikini entirely as Jamie finished his walked lap around me, ending in front of me.  

    “Christ, Claire, now it’s even worse!” he exclaimed. At his touch my nipples had stiffened, and the lightly padded bra cups weren’t doing much to conceal them. He stepped close to me, lifting my chin so he could kiss me, slipping his other hand up under the fabric of the bikini.

    “Oh, God,” he groaned, pinching me lightly as he cupped me with his hand.

    My hand slipped into his swim trunks just as easily. Jamie had no words to offer this time, just a guttural groan.

    “Jamie?  Claire?” Seth’s voice came from down the hall. “Are you guys coming? Dad says the wind is best right around two. We don’t want to miss it!” We let out a synchronized sigh as I backed away from Jamie, my fingers trailing up his abdomen.

    “We don’t  _really_  have to go, do we, love?” Jamie asked huskily.  “Your family will be gone… we’d have the house to ourselves…”

    “You know we’re meeting John and his cousin’s family there, don’t you remember?” I said, raising my eyebrows at him.

    “You’re right. We need to go,” he sighed. “And how often are ye able to see your brother and sister, anyway?”

    I smiled back at him. “Thanks, babe.   _We’re coming_ ,” I called out.

    “But for God’s sake, Claire,” Jamie begged as I headed toward the door, “Would you please put on a sundress or coverup? Seriously—ye don’t want me having to adjust myself the whole time we’re traveling to the beach, do you? Your sister will think I’m a nasty pervert, not a happily married man.”

    “Okay,” I said begrudgingly.  “But I’m never able to get sun on Arno.  I don’t want to add to my farmers’ tan while I’m here.”    

    “When we get to the beach, you can take it off again. Where I can stand in cold, waist-deep water and pray for deliverance,” Jamie joked.

    As we headed out of the bedroom door I grinned at him, lifting my lips to him for a kiss.

  


[Originally posted by thebookboyfriendharem](http://tmblr.co/Zy-vzj2D4T3i2)

 

    My mom had a list of things to take care of before Christmas, so she had told us to go on without her.  Although the 45-minute trip to Family Beach was again on the curvy side, Jamie seemed to be adjusting to riding in the car as long as he rode in the front seat.

    Shortly after we arrived and carried our gear to the beach, claiming our own plot of sand, a mini-van drove up.  In it was John, his cousin Aikwij, and his wife Emily, who were followed out of the vehicle by their two adorable little girls Olivia and Sophia.  Aikwij was full-blooded Marshallese and Emily was white, so their two daughters looked more like their uncle John than either parent.

    Aikwij and Emily happily took Shelly and me up on our offer to watch the little girls so they could go snorkeling with John, while Dad, Seth and Jamie walked the two windsurf boards out to chest-depth water where Dad & Seth demonstrated.  

    Jamie was a quick study and soon was holding on to the sail, leaning against the wind as he whipped across the water, his knees bent to cushion him against the slightly choppy ocean.  Seth took the other board while my dad waded back in to shore.

    Olivia and Sophia were adorable little wide-eyed three and five-year-olds who were initially shy but quickly took to ordering Shelly and me around.  They decided they wanted us to find them “lots of hermie trabs,” which we willingly did, looking for the subtle motion of hesitant hermit crabs in their varied, borrowed shells.  Even after the entire bottom of the red plastic bucket was covered with desperate crabs, the girls kept running around finding more.

    “Kids are  _exhausting_ ,” Shelly finally announced.  We had discovered we each needed to claim one little person to keep our eye on so we wouldn’t die of panic or whiplash from trying to keep track of both of them.  I was amazed at how quickly two little girls could run around.

    Eventually they tired of the crabs and reluctantly agreed to set them free.  At that point the only way we were able to keep the girls contained was to take them out floating with us on inner tubes, though the littlest one, Olivia, seemed determined to drown herself, randomly flinging herself off the innertube if she saw a “pwetty fis” that she wanted to catch, coming up sputtering and gulping for air when I pulled her out of the water by her life jacket.

 

    It was dinnertime when we finally got home, sunburnt, sandy, and exhausted. John and his cousin had politely refused our offer of dinner, saying they had to get ready for Christmas, but we were able to get John to promise to leave Tuesday and Wednesday open for outings.

    After dinner I groaned in mock horror as my mother brought out a stack of photo albums, but Jamie seemed eager to acquaint himself with my former life.  My mom nestled herself between us on the big sofa, happily pointing out pictures of significant events and sharing embarrassing stories. Dad sat on Jamie’s other side, and soon Shelly was perched on the arm rest of the couch by me.  We were also joined by Seth leaning on the back of the couch in time for mom to show a significant picture of Amy and me in our pajamas.  Three-year-old Claire’s hair was a riot of chestnut curls; five-year-old Amy’s straight hair was more orderly.  Both of us sat on the couch holding our brand-new baby brother.  Amy was beaming, while my adorable face was marred by an enormous pout.

    Mom chuckled.  “When I told the girls we were going to have a  _brown_  baby, Claire contradicted me.”

    Having heard this story many times, I turned to Jamie.  “I told her, ‘No. Not bwown baby.  _Gween_  baby.’”

    “And she’s been disappointed in me ever since,” Seth joked.

    Several pages later, multiple babies started showing up in the pictures.

    “We did infant foster care,” my mom explained to Jamie.  There was page after page of Amy and me toting babies in our arms, pulling them in wagons, reading books to several babies propped up on pillows. And finally there was a precious serious-eyed little girl with tan skin, chubby cheeks and wispy curls who first appeared in the pictures and then stayed.  After that there were fewer and fewer new faces.

    “It got too hard to say goodbye to them,” my dad offered.  “We wanted to keep them all.”

    Jamie smiled at me from his side of the couch, his eyes expressing what he was incapable of saying.

    As we lay in bed near sleep, I heard him chuckle.  “Today was educational,  _Ri-pālle_.  First, I learned how to windsurf.  Second, I discovered that your family is so physically affectionate, I’m not surprised you felt starved for affection with Frank.  And third…” He paused, drawing me closer to him.  “You’ve been a little mama since you were tiny.  No wonder you want babies, hen.  You had to say goodbye to far too many.”

    I nodded into his chest, letting a few tears fall unbidden.

    “I know you will be a mother, Claire,” Jamie murmured into my hair.  “We just don’t yet know which path it will take.” 


	20. Stocking Stuffers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas Eve Day/Christmas Morning mashup

**_[Purchase the revised, greatly improved version of book one as a paperback or on Kindle!](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Ftinyurl.com%2FIsland-fever-2018&t=NTkxMWZmMjM4N2EwZmMyMjc1YzY2YWM5YWJhYzM2MGQ3MWI4YjNjMCxEMnNHeU15eg%3D%3D&b=t%3ApBABLT-VvOvXHhVWaraIIg&p=https%3A%2F%2Fbetweensceneswriter.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F174134224417%2Fif-loving-you-sarong-i-dont-want-to-be-right-if&m=1) _ **

 

     “Jamie!”  I whispered loudly.  When he didn’t respond, I shook him by the arm.  “Jamie!” I said again, turning on the lamp.

    “What in God’s name,  _Ri-pālle_?” he exclaimed.  “It canna be any later than five-thirty.”

    “Five twenty-seven,” I whispered loudly.

    He dragged himself up to a sitting position, rubbing his eyes.  “Are ye all right, lass?” he asked.  

    “It’s Christmas!”  I exclaimed with a little bounce that made the bed shake slightly. He squinted, appearing to be inspecting me for gushing blood or a dangerous rash.  

    He stopped and stared at my face blankly.

    “It’s Christmas morning!” I repeated.  

    He let out his breath in a sigh.  “Are you serious?  You woke me up for this?”  He stretched, glanced down at his lap and then reached for me, a sneaky look on his face. “I’ll teach you to wake me up early in the morning…”

    “No, Jamie, look!” I said. I crept across the room to the door, opened it, and bent down.  When I returned to the bed I carried two large velour Christmas stockings, bursting with treats and tiny wrapped packages.  I looked at the labels.  “This one is yours,” I said, handing him the dark blue stocking and then sitting down on my side of the bed with the burgundy one.

    I pulled the first item out and then checked to see what Jamie was doing.  He was staring at me with a confused expression on his face.

    “Didn’t you ever have stockings?” I asked him.

    “Aye,” he responded.  “But they weren’t this huge, and I didna get up at five twenty-seven to open mine.” He shook his head in amusement, retrieved an extra pillow from the floor, leaned back against the two pillows, and watched me as I exclaimed over the contents of my stocking.

    Through the years my family had gotten less and less likely to buy each other gifts.   _It just wasn’t like it used to be_ , my parents would tell me.  It used to be kids would wait and only get gifts at Christmas and birthdays.  They would pore over the toy catalogues and with a Crayola marker circle what they wanted instead of swiping a screen to add things to their Amazon wish lists. But now people bought what they wanted when they wanted it, and with the convenience of online shopping no one really needed or wanted anything when holidays rolled around.  So all my family members found ourselves redundantly exchanging cash or gift cards, knowing that everyone could get what they wanted and not worry about returns.

    The one part of Christmas the Beechers had kept as close to our childhoods as possible was our tradition of Christmas stockings.  When Amy and I were little, Mom and Dad had found that we would wake up at three or four on Christmas morning and make a beeline for their bedroom, announcing cheerfully that Santa had come, and we were ready to open presents now!  

    To keep us busy until breakfast they decided that our stockings needed to be more substantial, so they stuffed our Christmas stockings with food, a book or two, art supplies, and little trinkets and toys, enough to keep our stomachs satisfied and occupy our time so they could get a few more precious hours of sleep.  Now that we were all grown we still continued the tradition, though Seth, Shelly and I (and Amy, when she and her family were able to visit) would join in and add additional treats to the stockings.  I had taken to shopping at World Market to buy my contribution of little goodies—Scottish shortbread, chocolate coins, and gag gifts—to add to the abundance.  Even this year I’d gone shopping in September and I’d sent my package on to Guam before I left Denver, knowing that the chocolate would keep better in the climate-controlled environment of my parents air-conditioned house.

    On the top of the stocking was a small box, wrapped in shiny gold paper.  “It’s from Shelly,” I told Jamie, opening it gently to reveal a darling pair of palm tree earrings.  They were silver, inset with the varied metallic colors of abalone shell.

***

    “Is everybody decent?” A voice at our door woke us up on Sunday, Christmas eve day.  

    I glanced over to make sure Jamie’s ass was covered and groaned, “Yes, Shelly… we’re decent.”

    She came in, wearing a cute sleeveless floral dress.  “Are you coming to church this morning?” she asked hopefully.

 _Church_.  Next to me, Jamie rolled over and squinted, one-eyed, at Shelly.  He yawned and stretched, and I saw Shelly’s eyes travel to his chest. I glared at her.  

    “What time is it?” Jamie asked through a yawn.

    “Nine,” she said. “Ya’ll are being lazy.”

    “What time is church?” he asked.

    “Well, I’m going for Sunday school.  I help in the early kids’ class at 9:30. But church is at 11.”

    “Okay,” Jamie nodded agreeably.  “We can probably make it in time for church.”

    I elbowed him in the side. “Jamie, we’re grown-ups.  We don’t have to go,” I assured him.

    He grinned.  “I’m going to make you go to midnight mass with me tonight, so as a compromise I’m going to experience your childhood church as well.”

    “ _Make_  me?” I asked, grinning over at him.  He reached under the covers and tickled me.

    “I’m going to leave,” Shelly announced loudly.  “And I’m locking the door!”  

    She just barely missed Jamie’s joyful stage whisper to me that we still had several hours to get ready for church before he dove under the bedclothes.

***

    The next thing down in the stocking was a pad of stationery and a few nice pens.  

    “So nice to have you writing me,” said the note.  “I look forward to hearing from you every week, and it’s amazing to actually hear about your life rather than just receive a haphazard text now and then.  Love ya, Mom.”

***

    We rode to church with my Mom, and seeing that Jamie was going, even Seth came along.  Mom had waited for us; it worked for her—she couldn’t leave the house without knowing that food was going to be hot and ready for us when we got home.  

    Arriving at church was awkward; of  _course_  it was.  Even though I’d been there hundreds of times growing up, to return as an adult was strange.  But then Jerry Cruz was at the front door, telling all four of us “Happy Birthday!”  It was an odd thing he’d done for forever, to remind us that it was a new week and that we were fresh and new, just like we had been on the day we were born.  

    And then I was surrounded by all the aunties and uncles who had watched me grow up, now eager to meet my husband, smiling at my mom, and greeting Seth as a welcome prodigal.  

    The population on Guam was an interesting mix of nationalities.  The locals—the Chamorros—were descendants of the original native population of Polynesians and the Spaniards who first colonized the island.  There were immigrants from other places: Filipinos, Japanese, Koreans, and then were added in all the Air Force airmen and their husbands, wives and children. It was a colorful mix.

    My favorite thing as a kid was when there was potluck or meal share at church.  There would be red rice and taro root or long beans in coconut milk—both Chamorro contributions, along with Filipino delicacies, some Japanese fare including sushi, kimchee from the Korean members, and any number of family favorites from all the others.  And because so many of the island cultures valued hospitality, there was never any lack of food.

    We settled in a pew as a family—Seth farthest in, followed by Jamie, then me, then Shelly, and then my Mom.  My dad beamed from the front when he saw all of us.  In the pew I was grateful for Jamie’s arm around me.  The songs were all different after ten years.  But my dad’s sermon was thoughtful, like always, and the hour didn’t seem too long.

***

    Shoved tightly into the stocking, next came a tin of Almond Roca, dad’s favorite.  Even so many years past childhood, I could never unwrap the little gold logs or eat the crunchy toffee covered with milk chocolate and almond bits without picturing my father.

***

    Jamie was silent on the short car trip home.  “Well, how was your first protestant church experience?” I asked.

    Jamie smiled.  “It was fine.  Kind of like a meeting with singing.  Less ritual than mass; less grandeur, I guess you could say?  But at least I wasn’t struggling to know what to do next.  Mostly we just sat.  After that I don’t think it’s a fair trade.  I dinna think you’ll forgive me for taking you to mass tonight.” There was humor in his eyes.

    “What do you mean?” I asked nervously.  “I’ve seen footage of communion and things like that.”

    “Just what we jokingly call ‘Catholic calisthenics’,” he said. “There’s a lot more sitting and kneeling and standing, and places where you’re supposed to respond to the priest and readings, things you’re supposed to say and do.”  He wrinkled his nose.  “I’m afraid you’re going to hate it.”

    “I can just watch and listen,” I grinned.  “I want to experience what you grew up with, what makes you feel close to God.”

    “I wouldna say mass makes me feel close to God, Ri-palle,” Jamie said, shaking his head.  “I feel closest to him on the beach with my toes in the sand. But it does make me feel close to my mother, and I want to light a few candles and pray.”

    After Sunday dinner, we rolled ourselves out of our chairs and went out for a walk around the neighborhood.  After feeling like we’d burned off at least a few calories, we settled around the living room.  I sat on the love seat, and Jamie lay with his head on my lap and his long legs draped over the armrest.  I sighed and absentmindedly played with his curls as I looked at the lights on the Christmas tree.

    “Major,” Jamie said. “I have a question for you.”

    My dad chuckled from his seat.  “That sounds so formal, son.  You can call me Jeff.  Or Dad, if you want.”

    I felt Jamie stiffen slightly. “I dinna think I’m ready to call you Dad, yet, sir,” he said.  “But I had a question about what you said during your sermon.  About today being the last day God had with his son.”

    “Well, they’re pretty certain the birth of Christ was in the Spring, not winter, so it wasn’t today, exactly,” said my dad, “What is your question?”

    “Just,” Jamie said. His forehead was wrinkling as he sorted his thoughts. “I just don’t understand how a father would choose to say good-bye to his son, with the knowledge that he wasn’t going to talk to him or see him for years.”

    My dad listened silently. And then he answered the question that Jamie  _didn’t_  ask.

    “I am certain, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that your father loves you, Jamie,” said my daddy. “You are an amazing young man. I’m glad you married my daughter and that you’re a part of our family.  And I know that when your father sees you again he will be proud of the man you have become.”

    Jamie’s face was red; he cleared his throat.  My dad cocked his head and looked at the two of us.  And then he got up and crossed the room to us.  I don’t remember exactly how it happened, but soon both Jamie and I were standing, tucked in my dad’s arms.  I peeked at Jamie’s face and saw that he was holding it together, but just barely.  And yet he looked relieved and calmed by my wonderful dad.

***

    “Oh, my god,  _Seth_!”  I groaned. When I opened the little cylindrical package from my brother, I found an assortment of novelty condoms.  One was glow-in-the-dark, one was strawberry flavored, one was “studded, for her pleasure.”  I grabbed the package and ran down the hall to Seth’s room, where I proceeded to jump on his bed (he was still in it) and toss his gifts at him.  

    When I returned to the guest room, Jamie seemed disappointed.  “I thought the glow-in-the-dark one might at least be interesting,” he said, but then wrinkled his nose at me with a grin.  “Though, as I recall, I dinna really care for condoms when it comes down to it.”

***

    Staying up until midnight was tortuous, particularly because it was 2 am Majuro time.  And Jamie was right about how awkward it was to not know what came next.  The cathedral was grand, bright with lights and colorful with tapestries on the walls.  Jamie held my hand in his, and I walked a step behind him as he slipped through the crowd. He coached me through crossing myself as we sat down, standing up as the priests and other people wearing robes walked up to the front.  They carried a huge Bible, a crucifix on a pole, and large candles.  There was even a guy swinging around something that was putting off smoke.  Jamie nearly got the giggles when he saw my wide-eyed reactions to everything, but he smiled down at me and whispered what I should say or do next, though a few times he looked confused as well.  

    “I think they may have changed the liturgy,” he explained. “Or possibly it’s just different on Guam than in Scotland.”  

    When the service was finished, Jamie led me to a little alcove off the main part of the cathedral where there was a rack of candles, some lit and some unlit.  Jamie coached me through the process of putting money into the box and then lighting a candle using a long, slender match stick.  After lighting the candle, he would bow his head for a moment, and then we would light the next one.  In all, Jamie lit eight candles.  

    I tried to think of who the candles were for.  His mother, his brother, his dad; Jenny, Ian, Wee Jamie and Maggie.  I couldn’t guesswho the eighth one was for, until he noticed the look of confusion on my face.  

    “Murtagh,” he explained.

    Jamie was ready to leave when I put my hand on his arm to stop him.  I stepped forward, put in my offering, and lit a candle, standing there for a moment as I breathed deeply.

    “What did you pray for?” he asked me as we left the church.

    I sighed.  “Just a wish,” I said.

***

    At the toe of the stocking, there was a small, flat, rectangular package.  Jamie leaned forward with a look of anticipation on his face.

    “It says it’s from you, but it’s not in your handwriting,” I said.

    “Aye,” Jamie agreed.  “I had to have your ma buy it for me.”

    I opened the box to find a bracelet, made from beads of the same material as the earrings from Shelly. Off the circle hung a small medallion and a cross.

    I looked at Jamie, certain there was more to the gift than what could be seen.  He gestured for me to join him, and I curled up next to him on the bed, the bracelet in my hand.

    “It looks a little like a rosary,” I said.  

    “It’s a prayer bracelet,” he said.  “I didna think you’d want a rosary.  But, look at the medallion.”

    I turned the circle over and held it up so I could see the tiny writing.  “It says… Saint Rita,” I read.

    “Saint Rita of Cascia,” explained Jamie, “is the patron saint of hopeless causes and impossible cases.”

    I turned to look up at him. “I’m not going to start praying to a  _saint_ ,” I said, frowning.

    “Why not?” He released me, looking disappointed. “If there’s a good woman who has God’s ear, if she nudged him in your direction, would that be so wrong?”

    “Still,” I said stubbornly. “I don’t mind that you’re Catholic. But I’m not one. And I’m not sure why you’re giving me a bracelet of the saint of hopeless causes.”

    Jamie gazed at me.  “Hen, she’s the patron saint of infertility.”

    At his words I teared up, then leaned over and kissed him.  “I’m sorry.  It’s sweet, Jamie,” I said.  “You were thinking about what matters to me.  And I appreciate that.”

    “Besides,” he said, as I rested in his arms again.  “I ken how distractable you are.  Surely you could use something to hold in your hands if you do meditate, if you do pray. Or hope.  Or  _wish_.”  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Notes  
> I freely admit, that as a 46 year old, Christmas would not be Christmas if there weren't stockings. My sisters (40 and 48) and I have dragged our husbands into this tradition. They don't mind it, and we also do it for the kids. But it just wouldn't feel like Christmas without stockings. :) We've grown up, of course, so now it's Lindor chocolates instead of Hershey's kisses.


	21. Fertile Myrtle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter belongs after Stocking Stuffers... Christmas day and the day after...

 

     "I’ll slice the star fruit,” I offered, pulling a knife out of the block and one of the cutting boards from the cabinet, then coming to stand by my dad at the counter as he cut up fresh fruit for Christmas breakfast.  Jamie perched on a stool at the island sleepily, devoting his attention to a cup of coffee, his freshly-showered hair in damp ringlets around his ears. He wore a fitted tee shirt, and I managed to get distracted from my fruit-cutting to stare at him for a few moments until he caught my eye.  He looked down at his chest, and then slowly looked back up at me, realization flooding over his features.

     “D’ye need me to hunt down a spider for you?” he asked with a grin, nose wrinkling at me. “Or is it just that your self-control hasna awoken yet?”

     I shook my head with a guilty smirk, feeling flushed and slightly embarrassed even though none of my family seemed to have noticed our interchange.

     At my sous chef post I nearly ran into my mother as she bent over to remove a pan of biscuits from the oven.  Next to her Shelly stood at the stove top stirring some rapidly bubbling sausage gravy, and in the corner of the kitchen Seth was grinding more coffee for a second fill of the French press.

     “I feel I shouldna be so lazy,” Jamie mused with a grin as he looked around the kitchen, “Wi’ all of you working so hard.  But truly, I dinna think there’s room for another body in that space, as much as I’d like to be helpful.”

     “Set the table,” I ordered, wiping my hands on a towel before retrieving a stack of dishes from the cupboard.  “That way you don’t have to squeeze in here with us, but you don’t have to feel ‘so lazy’.”

     Breakfast was a noisy affair with tales of favorite presents from Christmases past.  Jamie took lead on the clean-up, with a meaningful glance in my direction that ended with me standing next to him, rinsing dishes and then handing them off for him to put in the dishwasher.

     We were about to settle around the living room to open Christmas gifts when Dad got the call.  It was hard to tell who had called him from our end, but I could make a pretty good guess.  Christmas tended to be an emotional time of year on the base with airmen far away from their families.  There had rarely been a Christmas when he hadn’t gotten a call to minister to someone—whether they were suicidal or just needing a listening ear or a shoulder to cry on.

     I was right, gauging from the way my dad hung up the phone and turned toward us with an apologetic expression on his face.

     “We’re not six years old anymore, dad,” Shelly teased as he made his excuses.  “We can wait until later for presents!”

     Despite Shelley's assurances, after dad left we sat around the front room aimlessly, trying to decide what to do.

     “Well, we could go to Tarague,” Seth finally suggested. The rest of us were quick to agree, and so was Jamie once I explained that Tarague was a white sand beach on the Air Force base there on the northern coast of the island.  For whatever geological reason it was the best of the beaches on Guam, many of which had coarse coral instead of fine sand.

     Entering the air force base was the challenge, though my mother, Seth, and Shelly had base passes.  Jamie and I handed over our passports, at which the guards looked us up and down while inspecting our unflattering photos. At the mention of Major Beecher, though, the MP smiled and waved us through.

     The irony of wearing shorts and a tank top on Christmas didn't escape me, nor did it seem to escape Jamie, who looked me up and down with a small smile on his face.  He was quick to pull me into his side affectionately as we began walking down the beach.

     “Hey, Claire, do you remember that song you made up when I was little?” Shelly asked, walking backward in front of us.  She grinned as she started to sing, rolling her hips in a hula motion. 

> _“I’m dreaming of a green Christmas  
> _ _Just like the ones I used to know…”_

With her hands, Shelly made graceful motions indicative of waves and wind and trees...

> _“Where the palm trees sway and children play  
> _ _And no one cares about the snow…”_

       Initially I rolled my eyes at Jamie, embarrassed of my younger self, but eventually I couldn't resist and joined her in belting out the last few lines.

> _“May your days be merry… And keen!  
> _ _And may all your Christmases be green!”_

     Jamie pretended to ignore us, but his little half-smile and raised eyebrows gave him away.  The tide was low, so we walked out onto the wet packed sand, inspecting the surface carefully for shells.

     “Remember,” mom scolded as I turned to Jamie, holding up a small spotted cowrie shell. “You can look for them, but you can’t take them!” At Jamie’s confused expression, she explained, “The naval base wants to protect the area, so they have stringent guidelines about beach behavior.”

     “Including not taking shells,” said Seth.  “Hey, man, you want to run?  Breakfast was bad enough.  Just wait until you see the calories you’ll be consuming for Christmas dinner.”

     With a cursory nod, Jamie smiled.  The two curly-headed guys--one ginger and one black-haired--began to jog ahead of us down the beach.

     “I need exercise, too,” Shelly said, taking off after the two with little hesitation.  I looked helplessly at my mom, and then followed behind them down the hard-packed white sand, sprinting as fast as I could to catch up to the boys and long-legged Shelly, all of whom were jogging with an easy lope.

     “Hey, short stuff,” Seth teased as I came panting up behind them. “Those little legs just aren’t very fast!”

     “Little legs, you say?!” I exclaimed in disgust, proceeding to shove Seth toward the waves, at a great advantage because of my low center of gravity.  Seth stumbled and pushed back against me, but then got an impish look on his face.  He bent over and grabbed me around the hips, lifting me up over his shoulder--my behind stuck up in the air--and headed toward the ocean.

     I shrieked and pummeled his back.  “Put me down, you dipwad,” I said.  I could see the water around Seth’s feet and hear the waves getting closer.  I knew the next sensation was going to be being plunged fully-clothed into cold ocean water, but then I saw another pair of large feet approach behind us.

     “I’ll thank ye to unhand my wife, brother,” a deep voice said.  I craned my neck to see Jamie, holding his hand out toward Seth.

     Seth laughed and let me down gently, splashing sea water on my legs after I found my footing. I met Jamie’s eyes and smiled gratefully, then reached for his hand to walk back down the beach toward my mom.

 

     Christmas evening, it was almost time for me to go pick up Joe when Mom got a message from Amy.  Away on the other side of the earth, she had gathered Paul and my niece and nephews to videochat with us.  They were all crowded together on their couch in matching pajamas, making faces at us when the call started.

     “Gamma!” Three-year-old Evan started the greetings.

     “You’ve gotten so big!” my mom exclaimed, then gave each grandbaby a little bit of attention.  Five-year-old Kellen needed to show her his fingernail, blackened by smashing it in the car door.  Seven-year old Brett grinned to show off his most recent tooth loss, and nine-year old Elsie stood up and twirled to demonstrate her latest moves from ballet.

     After each grandchild felt noticed, Amy urged them to sit down so she could see.  “Claire!” she exclaimed, once the little bodies had settled and squeezed in (and in the case of Evan, ran off to play).  “Are you going to introduce me to your new husband?”  I took the laptop from Mom and turned it toward the two of us so Jamie was in the frame with me.  

     “This is Jamie,” I said, leaning into him as he waved.  “Jamie, my sister Amy..” After a little radio silence, Amy waved, “And her husband Paul” at which Paul waved as well.  “And that’s Brett,” I said, pointing to the oldest boy with brunette hair, “And that one is Kellen,” I said, at which he stuck his tongue out at us.  “Elsie is the only girl” met with a prim, shy smile. “And Evan is three,” warranted a run-by from the littlest, squealing “I’m fweeeeee!” as he raced past.  

     “Hiya to ye all,” said Jamie.  “I hope we shall meet in person one day.”

     Because of the lag time, a look of mortification had already appeared on Amy’s face by the time we heard the question that had caused it. “Where’s Uncle Frank?” Kellen asked, a look of confusion on his face.

     “Oh, he’s not here,” I answered, trying to be as casual as possible as I inwardly cringed. “This is Uncle Jamie.”

     Kellen responded offhandedly by simply chirping “Okay” and hopping off Paul’s lap.  I felt Jamie’s tension dissipate quickly after that.

     Via the computer screen Amy and family made the rounds, being passed to Seth, Shelly, and then back to Mom.

     “So, where’s Daddy?” Amy asked

     “You know, being a dad,” Mom responded.  “He’s off at the base making sure the airmen make it through the holidays.”

     Amy’s forehead wrinkled in concern.  “That’s right, isn’t it?  I’d almost forgotten… Well, Paul and I were hoping he’d be here for us to give you guys our Christmas present for the year.”

     My mom nearly squealed with excitement. “Are you coming to visit?”

     I scooted closer to my mom so I could see Amy, who was currently shaking her head with a impish smile on her face.

     “Seth? Shelly?” Amy called out.  “Can you guys come over so you can all see?”

     Paul was grinning at Amy as Seth and Shelly squeezed in with us on the couch and Mom pushed the computer out on the coffee table so we were all in the frame.

     Paul and Amy met each other’s eyes and nodded, and then Amy leaned off-screen as if to grab something.

     Just as she was coming back into frame, the screen blipped and went blank.

     “Are you freaking kidding me?” Seth said. 

     “Sethy, language!” my mother scolded.

     Jamie gently elbowed me in the ribs with a little snicker. “She finds that offensive?” he whispered.  “She would be absolutely stunned at you, ye potty-mouthed wee heathen.”

     Seth was shuffling through a mess on the desk trying to find the power cord for the laptop when there was the sound of the front door opening.  By the time the laptop had rebooted, my dad was also established on the couch with the rest of us, awaiting the call from Amy.

     It didn’t take long for us to apologize before Amy picked up a piece of paper from her lap.

     “What is it?” my mom asked, leaning forward to peer at the pixelated rectangle on the screen.  

     Amy held it upright, then rotated it until we could see the black page with some grayish splotches on it and a little bit of white writing at the top and bottom of the picture.

     An _ultrasound_.

     “You’re kidding!” Shelly exclaimed, just as my mom said in a stunned whisper, “You’re pregnant?”

     Soon the four other Nelson children were hopping around occluding our view of their parents, chanting, “We’re having another baby! We’re having another baby!”

     After congratulations and more chatter, we hung up from the call.  In silence, we all exchanged glances.  After all, four children was already quite enough.  But Amy had always loved being a mom, and every one of my nieces & nephews were delightful in their own way, so the thought of another one wasn’t overwhelming.

     However, I could feel Jamie’s grip tighten on my hand.  

     I couldn’t decide how I felt.  Sure, he could pity me.  Jamie knew how much I longed for children.  But he also knew that we’d already decided that now was not the time. 

     In fact, I’d had my mom make me an appointment with my gynecologist Dr. Cruz for the next day, Monday the 26th, to consult with her about birth control options.

 

     I paused for a moment as I entered the lobby.  At first I couldn’t see him, but then I spotted Jamie behind the low curved wall that separated the children’s area from the general waiting room.  His left arm was around a pudgy baby perched on his knee who was gleefully gnawing on the pad of his thumb while Jamie used his other hand to do a puzzle on the table next to him, ordered about bossily by a dark-haired little girl as a kindergarten-aged boy hung off Jamie’s neck.

     The weary mother of these three _niñ-niñs_ was currently breastfeeding another dark-haired baby apparently the same age as the one drooling over Jamie’s thumb and onto his knee. He was  _dorable_.  Sure, the baby was cute, too; but it was Jamie that made my heart jump. I wanted to mate with him right then and there.

     I walked over toward him, waiting through the moments it took for him to register my presence.

     “You can come in with me now, babe,” I said, smiling apologetically at the mother.  The baby at her breast was milk-drunk and sleepy, so she set that one aside into one of the two baby carriers on the floor next to her and took the other from Jamie’s outstretched arms.  Once the little guy saw his mama and knew food was coming, he started fussing instantly, continuing until she pulled him under her privacy cape.  From the sounds of noisy lips smacking, I could tell the he’d found his lunch.  

     “Thanks so much,” she said with a grateful smile at Jamie, then glanced over at me.  “Are _you_ guys having a baby?” she asked.

     When I paused in shock, she simply smiled and nodded toward Jamie with her head, the only part of her body not currently engaged in taking care of children.  “It’s just, he’s going to be a _great_ dad.”

     I smiled at him as Jamie blushed.

 

     When we reached Dr. Cruz’s office door, Jamie made eye contact with me before we entered.  “Are ye certain you want me to come in?” he asked.  “You dinna mind if I hear what she has to say?”

     “You don’t have to come in if you don’t want to,” I replied, a little hotly.  “I just felt like…”

     “I wasna trying to start an argument,” Jamie responded.  “It just seems very… _personal_.”

     “Says the man who helped me figure out what to do when my period came on our honeymoon,” I said in a firm whisper, drawing close to him.  “You were the one who suggested I go on the pill, after all.”

     Jamie took a deep breath.  “I’m not sure why, but we both seem on the defensive about this.   _Itok, Ri-palle_.  Let’s go in as a team.”

     I followed his lead and took a deep breath of my own, then grabbed his hand.  “I’m sorry,” I said.

     “Dinna fash yerself,” he responded. “I ken ye have strong feelings about anything to do with fertility…”

     Dr. Cruz invited us to sit opposite her at her desk, in two chairs set side-by-side.  I was grateful she had brought us in there instead of the exam room--her office wall was covered with pictures of babies and numerous cards instead of the cringe-worthy posters of the female reproductive system that had been in the other location.

     “From what we can see from the ultrasound, your ovaries look normal,” she said, pointing at two colorful blobs on the screen in front of her.  “‘There did seem to be a few large collapsed cysts, which might indicate recent ovulation. Are the two of you wanting to pursue pregnancy?”

     “In the future,” I said, “Not right away.  We just got married a couple of months ago.”

     Jamie raised his eyebrows at me as if questioning my honesty, and I grinned as I clarified, “Six weeks, a couple months…does it really matter?”

     “So what are the two of you currently using for birth control?” she asked, glancing at us over her reading glasses.

     “Nothing yet,” I responded, watching her eyebrows rise and feeling like some teenager getting scolded for unsafe sex. “I think I might be infertile, so we didn’t really worry about it.”

     “We were, however, thinking that now might be a good time for birth control pills,” Jamie piped up.  “To help with mood swings and the symptoms of PMS.”

     Dr. Cruz pursed her lips.  “I’m going to back you up just a bit...  So Claire, you think you might be infertile?  What brings you to that conclusion?”

     “My ex-fiancé and I hadn’t used protection in five years and we hadn’t gotten pregnant,” I explained.  “I’ve heard that no pregnancy within _one_ year of unprotected sex is considered infertility, so I assumed that must be the case.”

     The doctor’s forehead wrinkled and she nodded slowly as she opened up a window on her laptop.  “Are your cycles regular or irregular?”

     “Quite regular,” Jamie responded.  “About every 27 days.”

     The doctor’s cheeks dimpled as she tapped out a note on her computer.  She looked up at Jamie.  “You’re very observant, then.”

     He blushed.  “When something matters to me, I can be,” he joked with a grin.

     “So, how long have the two of you been sexually active… with each other?” she asked.

     “Six weeks?” I said hesitantly, making eye contact with Jamie, who flushed again with a slight shake of his head.

     “When did you say you?....” Dr. Cruz’s voice trailed off as she realized the answer, her face barely registering a look of surprise; but then turning her attention to her screen again.  “So, just a few more questions,” she said.  “Have you had a blood test for STDs?”

     “No,” I replied.  “But I just had a blood test and physical before coming over to the Marshall Islands, and they checked for pretty much every communicable disease there is.  And Jamie…” I turned to let him finish.

     “I had the same--blood tests and immunizations--two years ago when I volunteered for UniServe International,” he answered.

     “Have you always used protection since then, though?” she asked, persisting in her line of questioning.

     “Well, I was a virgin when we married, ma’am,” Jamie offered.  “I hadna had that kind of contact wi’ anyone.”

     “What about oral?” She asked. ”Anal?”

     Jamie's eyes widened and he flushed a deep red. “I said I was a _virgin_ ,” he stated, flustered.

     “Some people don’t think those count,” she said, “though they can spread STDs just as often as vaginal intercourse if not more so.  HPV, especially.”

     For some odd reason, I felt like covering Jamie’s ears.  Yes, he’d grown up around animals, and we had quite an open and honest relationship, but I snuck a glance at him to see that he was flushing all the way to the tips of his ears.

     “For safety’s sake,” she said, “I would like to do a blood test for each of you.  We gynecologists look out for different things than general practitioners.”

     Jamie and I shrugged and nodded at her.

     “Okay, let’s talk birth control,” she said.  “So many options available, but I think what you want is one that provides a steady dose of progesterone.  We could put it in an IUD, or you could get a shot every three months.”

     “I’m a nurse practitioner,” I said, trying to save her the time. “I’ve given the Depo shot to many different women in the islands.”

     “Then you may have an idea of what kind of method you want to use,” she responded, sitting back in her chair and looking at me, eyebrows raised.

     “I thought just the pill,” I said.  “I had some negative side effects the last time I used birth control, so I wouldn’t want anything that wouldn’t be easy to stop using.”

     She pulled a stiff chart out from a rack behind her and put it down on the desk in front of us.

     “If you haven’t used the pill for five years, you may have stopped before the current varieties were developed.  There’s the typical 28-day packet you may have used before, or I could prescribe you the kind that cuts back to only four periods a year by keeping you on a steady dose of hormone for nearly three months, then placebo pills for a week.”

     I eyed Jamie, who was listening intently, seeing that he had a question.  “As one of the reasons Claire is looking at birth control is to regulate her emotions, would that be a good thing?”

     “Actually, yes,” Dr. Cruz responded to him.  “Those particular pills are often preferred by those who take the pill specifically for mood regulation because they don’t have the monthly drops in hormone levels that cause those mood swings.”

     “And just one period every three months?” Jamie asked intently, leaning forward and looking at the chart in front of her as I chuckled and shook my head next to him, blushing slightly.

     Dr. Cruz smiled at me. “Yes. I find many women appreciate the ability to not be concerned about their periods arriving at inconvenient times.  And also to be more spontaneous in their sex lives,” she said, “unhampered by pain and flow every four weeks.”

     I blushed and chuckled. "Well, what do _you_ think, Jamie?” I asked, feeling some uncomfortable emotion rise inside that I couldn’t name.  

     He turned to me. “Claire, ye ken it isna my choice.  What I care most about is that you _feel_ better.”

     I realized then what I was feeling-- _bitterness_.  I hated being in the OBGYN waiting room.  I hated pregnant bellies.  I hated seeing car seats and binkies and baby blankets and nursing covers and tired-eyed mothers.  Of course I felt a pang in my heart at the sight of fuzzy-headed infants, but I hated that pain too.  And all that bitterness was manifesting itself as a fierce independence that didn’t want to be told what to do.  If I didn’t have control over my ability to have children, I for damn sure didn’t want anyone else to try to take over my choice to NOT have children. 

     Jamie had reached over and was gently stroking my back, looking at my face.  I could feel a thickness in my throat, could start to feel my eyes begin to tear up.  Focusing on the comfort of Jamie’s warm hand on my back, trying to ignore the adorable photos of wide-eyed babies behind Dr. Cruz, I took a deep breath and sighed, leaning forward to go over my options once again.

 


	22. Tarzan Falls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's been so long since I've updated! 
> 
> Claire, Jamie & friends head out on a hike to a waterfall.

     “I feel like a gay black version of Doctor Livingstone!” Joe joked, his long legs swishing through the sword grass.  “I can’t imagine what we’re going to find around the next corner!”

     Joe never failed to make me giggle.  He had a way of putting everyone at ease, but he was especially good with kids which was why our clinic directed many of the pediatric cases his way.   

     We had created an unofficial hiking order as we headed toward Tarzan Falls.  Jamie, despite his unfamiliarity with the path, struck out in front.  He blazed the trail, warning the rest of us about challenges in the way.

     Behind him were Seth, Joe, and John, similarly athletic and long-legged.  Shelly and I brought up the rear.  She was taller than I and faster but sometimes would let me pass her out of pity.

     Jamie paused after leaping off a clay outcropping like a mountain goat, waiting as Joe, then John, then Seth negotiated the road hazard; waiting until I approached to offer me his hand. The red clay soil was rutted and slippery so I accepted the help gratefully.  After grinning at me and releasing his grip, he stayed in place to help Shelly down as well.

     Sword grass fronds extended their sharp edges onto the path.  Though there were moments like these that I regretted wearing my shortest cut offs over my bikini, the humidity and heat were intense enough that I wouldn’t have wanted to be wearing more.  I pulled my hair off my neck and knotted it into a bun, fanned my face, and then trotted to catch up to the others.

     “What led you to work in nursing?” John was asking Joe.  “I know more men are nurses now than used to be, but I’m curious what took you in that direction.”

     “I started with a pre-med major,” Joe answered, glancing back, “but one of my boyfriends in college was a doctor and advised me against medicine as a career.  The student loans and costs of malpractice insurance were so high that he felt like the payoff wasn’t worth it.”

     “Really?” John sounded surprised. “I’ve always thought of medicine as one of the best-paying careers.”  

     “It doesn’t pay as well as you’d think, when you consider the years it takes to pay off a $500,000 medical school loan.” Joe paused as the path headed into even taller sword grass, looking back to see if the rest of us were close.  He shrugged, looking at John.  “All of those were factors that led me toward nursing instead of medicine.”

     “How about you, Claire?” John asked me as I caught up to them.  “Why did you choose to become a nurse?”

     “God, that’s a hard one,” I said.

     “No it’s not…” Seth interrupted with a scoff.  “You should remember that from the first time I had to get stitches you were hooked on blood and gore…”

     I giggled.  I’d forgotten that experience—one of the more formative ones of my early life, when Seth had bit through his lower lip at the pool and I’d finagled my way into the exam room to watch in fascination as the emergency room doctor gave Seth four stitches in the w-shaped wound on his lower lip.

     “Stitches, baby,” I joked.  “Stitches get me going! I wouldn’t have given Jamie a second glance if I hadn’t had to bring out a suture kit when I met him.  Best first date ever!”

     Jamie busted out with a guffaw. “D’ye mean to tell me, Ri-pālle, that had I not made such a stupid mistake and cut myself so badly, we wouldna be married today?”

     “Aye,” I answered teasingly.

     He pursed his lips and shook his head ironically. “Well then, I guess I’m glad for that scar on my arse.”

     “Cut? Stitches? Arse?” Shelly asked. “This is news to me! You met as nurse and patient?”

     I wrinkled my nose and shook my head at her, but in the meantime, John and Joe had turned back with incredible interest.

     “Now _this_ is a _story_ …” Jamie started grandly, an impish look on his face making me equally curious which version of events he’d be sharing.

     “I was boating with my students, and in an effort to save one of them, I sacrificed myself, ending up with a terrible gash on my posterior,” he started.  Okay, so he didn’t want to feel foolish.  So far, close to the truth.

     “My students helped me limp to the clinic, and when I arrived, this frizzy haired…” he paused and looked at me meaningfully, “ _munchkin_ came flying out of the clinic, tore me away from my students, stripped me of my clothing, and then…”

     Jamie grinned and flushed slightly as I raised my eyebrows at him.

     “Saved my life…” he continued deliberately.  “Amused me with her wit and humor, entranced me with her beauty, and then—ye ken—asked me to marry her.”

     “Ooooohhh!” teased Seth, looking at my faux irritated expression. “Someone’s getting a spanking tonight!”

     “I truly wouldn’t have had it any other way, Love,” Jamie said, kissing me firmly in front of the lot of them, then indicating that we really needed to continue.

     The sword grass soon parted and we were on a wide red clay slope heading downward toward a green valley below.  We settled into a wide straggly group, weaving through the gullies and washouts as the conversation continued.

     “So what are you taking in college?” John turned and asked Seth.  I smiled at Jamie, admiring the way John was pulling each person into the conversation.

     “Mass media and film,” Seth answered.  “It’s my senior year this year… And I really need to think of a good senior film project.  We have to film, narrate and edit a documentary, and I haven’t a clue where to start.”

     “I told you,” offered Shelly, “that you should film a first-person version of the Bachelor, chronicling your dating life…”

     Seth groaned and shook his head.

     “And you, then?” John asked Shelly.  

     “Earth Science,” she answered.  “I think I want to focus on climate science, but I’m not sure yet.”

     “Well,” John said, “You’d be welcome to talk to my auntie and uncle.  They’re here on Guam as climate change refugees.”

     “Speaking of climate, Jamie and John worked together to build a solar still,” I said, with a quick smile at my husband.  “You wouldn’t think drought would be an issue on the islands, but a lack of water is one of the things they deal with regularly on Majuro.  It’s becoming an issue on Arno as well.”

     “Did you take engineering in college?” Shelly asked Jamie.  “I know you’re teaching, but is that what you majored in?”

     Jamie reddened slightly, an almost imperceptible change camouflaged by the redness already in his face because of heat and exertion.  “I will actually... still… have to finish my undergraduate degree at some point,” Jamie said.  He reached for my hand as I trotted quickly to join him, and as he began to speak again, I felt his grip tighten imperceptibly.  “I have only a two-year degree,” he offered, then sighed.  “Since Claire has several years of education past university, I guess ye would have to say she married _down_ …”

     “Come on, Jamie,” laughed Shelly. “She didn’t marry _down_.”

     “Yes.  Stop it,” I scolded quietly, smacking him on his ass and then interlocking my fingers with his again.

     He raised his eyebrows as he glanced down at me, his lips quirking in a half-smile as he squeezed my hand.

     “I agree with Shelly.  I can’t imagine that’s true,” Joe contradicted. “Amazing teacher, hard worker, gentleman, good provider…” As the faint blush beneath Jamie’s tan increased, Joe elaborated.  “Yes, Claire and I talked about you at length when she picked me up from the airport!”

     “Tell me more,” John said to Joe with a grin at Jamie.  “I want to hear another perspective on my friend.  And I have much to tell _you_ about _yours_.”

     “ _I_ want to hear the gossip!” Shelly said, racing past Jamie and me to join Joe, John, and Seth.

     With the path narrowing so we could only walk single file, Jamie and I were soon a distance away from the conversation at the front of the line.

     “Stop a sec,” I said, panting as we reach the slight shade of a Norfolk pine tree.  I swigged from my water bottle, handing it to Jamie as I finished.

     “Ye didna say anything, Claire, when I said I have but a two-year degree,” Jamie said quietly.  “I should ha’ told ye before, but I didn’t. Are you angry?”

     “I already knew,” I offered with a shrug.  “John mentioned it during the field ship week.”

     “But we’ve been back together a week now,” Jamie said.  “And you hadn’t mentioned it?”

     “Not my first thought or my priority when I got back in the same place as you,” I offered.  Jamie bent and kissed my forehead, screwing up his face as he stepped back.  

     “Salty,” he commented with a chuckle, wiping his lips with the back of his hand, then taking another sip from the water flask before handing it back to me.

     I screwed the lid back on as I continued.  “I’ve had time to adjust to the thought.  I should have realized that there wasn’t much time for graduating from college since you’ve taught two years and you’re only twenty-two.”

     “No’ much longer,” he said with a grin.  “I’ve a January birthday.  And then I’ll be twenty- _three_.”

     “Still,” I said, making earnest eye contact with him.  “It doesn’t matter to me, babe.  There's plenty of time for more education if you want it.  People start new careers in their _forties_.”  

     Jamie’s eyes had softened, and he pulled me to him, wrapping me in his arms and drawing me close.

     “Come along, _Ri-palle_ ,” he said as he let me go, taking my hand.  “I hear the sound of water.  It canna be far off.”

     We caught up to John, Joe, Seth, and Shelly at a spot where the Ylig river spread out wide over smooth rocks, passing under the shade of slant-rooted pandanus trees where it settled in some deeper water-carved holes.

     Grateful for my water hikers, I stepped directly into the river, letting the cool water flow around my legs, then bending to splash water onto my arms and my face.

      “Where are the falls?” asked Joe. “The water’s flowing away from us, and I hear them somewhere!”

     “We’re at the top,” Seth said, grinning at Joe’s look of alarm at me as I stood in the center of the river. “It’s not a strong flow this time of year.  Almost to dry season.”

     We picked our way down to the pool below the falls, a wide cascade of water splashing over black rocks. With a look at each other for reassurance, Shelly and I peeled off our clothes, spreading shorts and shirts on a flat rock, then hesitantly circling the pond until we could edge out onto the ledge at the base of the falls, finding places to sit and let the water beat down on our shoulders like a cold massage sprayer.  

      From our vantage point, we were able to admire the men as they stripped off their shirts and waded into the pool, quickly reverting to their teenage years as they began splashing each other.  Shelly couldn’t resist the temptation for long, so she joined them in their impromptu water fight.  I noticed Jamie making his way toward me and welcomed him onto my ledge once he reached me.  He looked me up and down as he sat, with a little shake of his head.

     “What?” I asked him innocently, quite aware of what he was thinking, just wanting to hear him say it.  

     “It is taking me some time to get used to seeing ye like this out in public, ye ken,” he mused.  “And having to resist the temptation to manhandle you. _Ifrinn_ , I just want to drag you into the bushes and have my way wi’ ye.”

     My stomach leapt a little at his words. Under the cover of the rapidly falling  water, I snaked my hand behind Jamie’s  back and slipped it into his shorts, feeling my way down to the slightly stiffened ridge of his scar, tracing the meandering track of it.

     “I wasn’t completely kidding,” I murmured. “I’m sorry you got hurt, but I’m glad you needed me.”

     “I wasna jesting either,” Jamie answered. “I’m grateful for this scar.” He bent to kiss me.

     With the pounding of water on my back, Jamie’s lips firmly on mine, and his warm tongue a contrast to the cool water cascading over us, I felt myself caught up in the current of desire. _Oh hell, I want him, too_ , I thought, as his hand crept up my rib cage and—hopefully concealed by the pounding spray—enveloped my breast, a little groan escaping from his lips against mine.

     I nipped his lower lip, and the groan increased in volume  

     "Oh my God, you two!” Seth’s voice penetrated the noise of rapid water flow and shattered the illusion of isolation. “Get a room already!”

     We emerged from the falls sheepishly to expressions of amusement from friends and siblings.

     “Seriously,” Seth scolded.  “I may have girlfriends, but I don’t get graphic with them when you’re around.”

     “They’re married,” Shelly emphasized.  “And newlyweds.  Give them a break!”

     After refreshing ourselves in the water, we crawled out and laid on towels to dry before heading back up the trail.

     “Did I see a sign for _Santa Rita_ on the way here?” Jamie asked as he sat down beside me.  I squinted up at him and he shifted his shadow, trying to help me avoid the glare of the bright afternoon sun.

     “Oh, I totally just studied this in my Guam history class,” Shelly said excitedly.  “Santa Rita is one of only two towns on Guam that don’t have a Chamorro name.”

     “Now, why would that be?” Jamie asked.

     “Well… I think it was established during World War II,” Shelly explained.  “When the Japanese occupied Guam, the village of Sumay was the first that they bombed. Many of the people fled their village to nearby farms.”

     “What does that have to do with Santa Rita?” Seth asked.

     “Just wait.  It’s a story,” Shelly retorted, swatting his arm.  “So when the Americans worked to liberate Guam, the people used caves like bomb shelters. But the Japanese were cruel.  With American forces gathering off the coast, the Japanese army attacked the people in the caves, killing them with bayonets, grenades and machine guns, and raping the women.”

     I cringed at the thought.  I had heard rumors about death marches and allegations of cruelty, but this was far more specific and horrifying.

     “When the Americans came, they did bring liberation, but in the process completely destroyed Sumay.  The US forces built temporary housing inland and because of the strategic position of the peninsula that Sumay was on, they confiscated the coastal areas for their naval base.  I’m not sure why they named the refugee settlement Santa Rita, but I’m guessing it’s something to do with a Catholic saint.”

     As Shelly talked, Jamie had been combing my wet curls with his fingers. When she started to explain the reason for the name, he froze, then turned to her. “Is there a Cathedral there? A Catholic Church?”

     “I can’t imagine there _not_ being one,” Seth joked. “Guam was colonized by the Spanish, and they brought Spanish customs, foods, and religion right along with them.”

     “Why do you ask?” John queried from his position on the rocks.

     “I just… I have a feeling about it,” Jamie said, forehead wrinkled.  “I dinna ken why.”

 

     All too soon, we groaned as we packed up our water bottles and towels and prepared to head back up the trail.  Seth had brought along our water purifier, so we took turns pumping fresh water into our containers once we’d reached the creek at the top of the falls.   After replenishing our water supply, we began the slog back up the hill to the trail head.  It hadn’t felt very long going down, but the steep stretches seemed interminable to me.  In time, though, we reached the parking lot. When we finally arrived at the cars, Jamie’s forehead was furrowed.

     “I canna explain it, but I want to go to Santa Rita.  I’d like to see the cathedral there, _Ri-pālle_ ,” he said.  “Will you come wi’ me?”

     I felt confused by his request.  I assumed he must have a reason; from his facial expression I was also certain that it was something he’d rather not share with the crowd.  We shuffled cars so that Jamie and I were on our own, Joe and John insisting that they were happy to run Seth & Shelly to our house, since Mom had insisted that she’d be feeding everyone tonight.

     On my map app, I quickly discovered that there was indeed a Catholic church in Santa Rita, one called _Our Lady of Guadalupe_. The pictures online showed a spare brick building, painted white with blue trim.

     The cathedral was as fresh and airy inside as it had looked in the pictures.  My sandals were caked with red mud so I slipped them off at the door and Jamie followed suit.  He reached for my hand and led me into the sanctuary, our bare feet silent on the cold tile floor, the cool stone refreshing against my warm skin.

     There was no one there as far as I could tell, but the doors and windows were open, allowing the breeze to flow through.

As we drew close to the front, I could see three ornate statues.  The woman on the right was obviously Mary, the holy mother, her halo clearly encircling her head. To the left was the statue of Jesus on the cross.  To the left of the carving of Jesus was another statue.  When I saw it, I started to tremble.  

     It was another woman, wearing the dark habit and white head covering of a nun.  In her hands she held up a small wooden cross.  As I drew closer, I could see a stigma on her forehead—a faint mark  of blood.

     With shaking hands, I rotated my Christmas gift from Jamie on my wrist until I could see the picture on the charm hanging off the bracelet.  

     In the oval was a woman in a dark habit holding a small cross out in front of her, a faint mark on her forehead.

_They were the same woman._

     Jamie had frozen when he noticed her as well, gasping,“ _A Dhia!_ ”

     I felt a chill in my stomach, and my arms pricked with goosebumps.  It was too strange a coincidence.  I had never even heard of the woman before Christmas morning and yet here she was again.

     “Saint Rita,” he whispered to me, “The patron saint of lost causes is the one who gave the village of displaced Sumay residents its name.”

     “It’s so tragic, Jamie,” I said. “These people lost everything.  Homes and parents and children.”  I met his eyes.  “I hope she gives them comfort, too.”

     I could feel tears pricking my eyes as Jamie responded instinctively, slipping his arms around me as I turned into his embrace.  

     “She gives comfort to many,” he whispered into my hair.  “To lost causes… to impossible cases…”

     “And to the barren,” I said, in a muffled combination of laugh and sob.

     “Oh, hen,” he said.  “Does this make ye feel even worse? Here ye are with your prescription for birth control pills to start when we return to Arno.”

     “No, Jamie,” I said, shaking my head against him.  I meant it, too.  I wasn’t lying.  “Don’t you see?  Crazy as this is, it feels like divine reassurance.  That when it’s _time_ , it won’t be impossible.”

     He bent down and gently kissed my lips. I stood on tiptoe, the breeze coming in through the doorway and wrapping us in cool comfort as Jamie held me tightly in an embrace.  

     When I looked up at him, his eyes were glistening too. “Ye dinna ken what sweetness you’ve brought into my life, Claire,” he said.  “And how much I long for you to have the desires of your heart.”

     I followed him willingly as he approached the front of the church, slipping into the side pew that brought us in front of the crucifix, with Saint Rita of Cascia to our left.  Jamie brought out a rosary, putting down the kneelers and dropping to his knees, his arms on the back of the pew in front of us.

     When his eyes were closed, his lips moving in whispered prayers, I joined him, slipping forward and kneeling on the padded cushion.

     I fingered the smooth stones on the bracelet Jamie had given me, looking at the woman in front of me in her simple robe, her focus on the cross, her eyes looking beyond what was to what could be, and letting my heart pour out all the things I was feeling.  Love for the man I adored kneeling next to me.  Thankfulness for my family.  For my friends. For beauty and laughter. And then I nestled closer to Jamie, feeling the call on my heart to pray for him. A prayer of gratitude for him, then for healing for his relationship with Jenny, and for understanding and peace for his father.  For his strength and beauty, and for bringing us together.

 


	23. Cocos Island

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter takes place after Tarzan Falls, before Stag Night. Once I'm done posting new chapters for a time, I'll re-organize them. But for now, I'm putting the most recent chapters at the end so people can find them easily.

     The Cocos Island ferry dock was at the southern end of the island so it took us a good hour to get there, traveling in the busy traffic on Marine Drive and through the bustling capitol city of Guam, Agaña.

     Finally at the Cocos Island parking lot we discovered we had arrived at the same time as a crowd of Seth’s friends from the University of Guam, and shortly after we had parked and unloaded all of our things a taxi carrying both John and Joe arrived. Jamie looked at me with a curious smile as the two handsome men walked toward us across the parking lot.

     “They’re just saving money by taking a taxi together,” I suggested nonchalantly, my heart in my throat, face flushing.  “It’s expensive to get around the island.” I stared at the two of them as inconspicuously as I could, wondering if there was more to the sharing of a taxi than I implied.  

     We purchased our tickets at the office and waited for the ferry to arrive at the dock, though we quickly determined it wouldn’t take long gauging from the view we had of the rapidly advancing boat.

     While we waited, I peeled off my cover-up and had Jamie apply sunscreen to my back and shoulders.

     “Christ, Claire, dinna ye think this is something we should have done away from the eyes of a crowd?” he whispered to me.  “Seriously, lass, it seems each day you find new and different ways to torture me.”

     I laughed and put the cover-up back on once he was done.

     On the ride, Seth shouted introductions to his friends over the constant rumble of the boat engines. Dora, Savannah, Alissa, Ramona, Patrick, Ed, Andrew.

     The four girls were young and bubbly, tossing their long hair over their shoulders or pulling it out of their faces as they wrestled with the warm breeze.  I had already admitted defeat and had twisted my curls up in a tousled bun.

     “This is my sister, Claire,” Seth yelled, leaning toward his friends but gesturing towards me.

     “Hi, Claire,” said one of them, reaching across the boat to shake hands with me.

     “And this is her husband, Jamie,” Seth bellowed.

     Most of them smiled and nodded, but I caught a faint look of something next to surprise or disgust cross the face of the girl Seth had introduced as Ramona, the one blonde of the group. Maybe I was reading to much into it, but her facial expression seemed to be saying ‘ _he's_ married to _you_?” I smiled at her, but I doubt it reached my eyes, and then I turned my gaze toward the island as we approached.

     Fortunately the ride was neither long nor the ocean too choppy, so Jamie only looked slightly sallow by the time we arrived.  

     Cocos Island was a little resort off the coast of Guam. When I had been a teenager living there, it was a common place for eighth-grade class field trips and Japanese tourists, the yen being strong against the dollar. This appeared to still be true from the number of teenagers and petite, sunburnt Asians we saw walking along the beach. Palm-frond umbrellas, picnic tables, and lounge chairs joined the palm trees edging the wide white sand expanse of the beach. On the other side of the dock, a large area bounded by floating buoys indicated the region where rented jet skis were to stay.

     The college girls quickly took charge, directing the boys towards an unoccupied semi-shady spot on the sand. We spread out quilts and set down backpacks, both John and Joe establishing themselves near Jamie and myself, farther away from the high-pitched talk and flirtatious giggling of the young ladies. They teased and cajoled until the collegiate men gave in and went out to wade in the ocean, though my guess was that their true intent was to bounce around in their bikinis and get doused with water to make the clingy fabric cling even more.   I watched them curiously, realizing with slight dismay that this was Jamie’s peer group—kids in the 18-22 year age group.

     John and Joe asked Jamie if he wanted to explore the island.  They invited me as well, but not wanting to interrupt the male bonding I declined, finding myself amused enough just observing the strange mating rituals of American college students.  It had been a _long_ time since those days _._

     “What are ye doing, hen?” Jamie’s voice startled me, but I regained my composure as he sat down on the sand next to me.

     “Watching people,” I replied with a grin.

     “Which ones?” he asked.

     “Those two,” I said, pointing over toward Shelly and one of Seth's friends. Was it Patrick?  No, maybe it was Ed.  I remembered that he was tall and dark-haired, and looked more Latino than Chamorro or Filipino. “I’m watching Shelly and whoever that is,” I said, making another gesture in their direction.

     “Hush,” Jamie said, quickly grabbing my hand and pulling it downward into his lap.  “Didna your parents teach ye it's rude to point?”

     I smirked back at him. Nevertheless, he followed the direction my finger had indicated and saw Shelly blushing prettily, lowering her eyelashes and then looking up and meeting the handsome young man's gaze.

     “‘ _Um_ ,’” Jamie squeaked, “‘ _Could you help me find my swimsuit? I know it's around here somewhere…_ ’” It took me a moment to realize this was his version of Shelly.

     I elbowed him in the side.

     “Don't talk about my sister that way,” I grumbled in semi-perturbed response.

     “Seriously, _Ri-pālle_ ,” he said, turning to me and speaking as himself, “What young ladies think passes for swimwear these days… Why, if I had a daughter, I wouldna let her wear such a tiny suit.”

     “She looks good in it,” I said, inspecting her. “You want to penalize her for being pretty?  You're too conservative.”

     “Aye, perhaps I am,” Jamie replied. “But look at the way he's looking at her, eating her wi’ his eyes.”

     “No…” I contradicted.  “That’s not it at _all_. ‘ _You seem intelligent and well-spoken_ ,’” I offered in a deep voice. “‘ _I am deeply interested in your thoughts and dreams. What do you think of the current state of affairs with North Korea?’_ ”

     Jamie leaned over and kissed me on the forehead. “Ye are quite amusing, wee one.”

     “Can't a guy feel both ways?” I asked. “Interested in a girl as a person AND attracted to her physically?”

     “Aye,” he conceded with a smile.  “I guess I'm just feeling protective.”

     “Because you liked _me_ as a person first, right?” I asked.

     “Definitely,” he said, looking away at the white sand rimmed by turquoise water. “Though I was aware of you as a _woman_ from nearly the beginning.” He returned his gaze to me, his eyes traveling appreciatively over my body, punctuating his comment with a low whistle.  My insides quivered at the expression on his face and I flushed and turned away, hearing the approach of footsteps on the sand.

     “Come swimming with us,” Joe panted, sitting down beside me. “I like John well enough, but I came out here to visit my friend!”

     John grinned as he squatted off to the side. He really was a nice-looking guy with his tanned skin and a muscular but slim build, kind eyes and bright smile.

     “We’re people-watching,” Jamie offered. “Join us.”  He nodded his head toward Shelly and her handsome young friend. “‘ _I'm going to be a climate scientist_ ,’” Jamie squeaked. “‘ _And I think the cause of global warming is **you**!’”_

     Not missing a beat, John added in a masterful falsetto,“‘ _You walk by, and my temperature goes up by two degrees!_ ’”

     Jamie guffawed, and Joe gave John a high five while I pretended it wasn't funny and rolled my eyes.

     “Seriously, Claire, come swim.”

     “ _Soooo_ many reasons not to,” I objected.

     “Such as?” Joe asked.

     “Sharks.  Coral scars.  Salt water--which makes my skin sticky and my hair frizzy.”

     “Then come to the pool,” John urged.  “You can’t object to that--this is our chance to play! _Ejjab ri-jowan!_ ”

     I looked at Jamie for the translation. “Don’t be lazy,” he said with a grin. I took Jamie’s proffered hand and got up, brushing the sand from my backside and following the guys to the pool.

     Once there, I sat on the edge with my legs in the water, not eager to get into the semi-cold pool.  The boys seemed less reluctant, jumping in almost immediately.  Joe decided to swim laps, having claimed that he had been eating too much and without going to the gym he wasn’t getting enough exercise to burn the calories he was consuming.  Though I couldn’t see a spare ounce on his toned abdomen, I had shrugged and shooed him off.

     “How has your visit been?” I asked John, who waded through the water to me and leaned against the side of the pool where he joined me in watching Joe’s long arms beat a steady rhythm as he swam laps, and Jamie’s back as he climbed up the ladder on the deep end of the pool.

     “Far more interesting than I expected it to be,” he responded, “Though Aikwij and Emily have said they thought they’d see more of me.”

     “Oh, I’m so sorry!” I apologized.  “We just wanted to include you.  We wouldn’t have asked as often if we’d thought we were offending your family.”

     “I’m not sorry,” John replied, following Jamie with his eyes as my muscular husband walked to the diving board and paused, checking to make sure Joe was at the far end of the pool. “I’ve missed Jamie the last couple of years, and it’s been lovely to see so much of the island with your family.  And to meet Joe, too,” he said, with a shy smile.

     I soon saw a side of Jamie I hadn’t observed before as he climbed the steps to the diving board and did a graceful backwards dive into the pool.  He came up out of the water grinning and quickly swam to the shallow end.  Once he reached us, he shook his head violently, showering me with water and making the curls pop up all over his scalp. Instead of squealing, I just glared at him, rolled my eyes, and kept on talking to John.

     Eventually I succumbed to pressure and went in swimming with the boys, but soon, feeling more chilled than I had in months, I retreated to the women’s locker room in the pool house to take a warm shower.

     I had wrapped myself in my towel and curled up on one of the lounge chairs under the palm trees by the pool when I saw Jamie exit the men’s locker room.  He shaded his eyes, looking around then heading away from me toward the beach.  I saw at least two sets of giggly girls--sunburned and simpering--parade past him.  I watched him, looking for his response to other women.  He seemed friendly enough, stepping to the side to allow them the right-of-way--but I didn’t see him ogle.  That didn’t mean anything, of course.  I knew plenty of guys who had mastered the art of the non-head-turning stare.

     There were three girls off to my right. From appearances, I couldn’t tell whether they were high school or college-aged and I didn’t want to seem like a stalker.  However, I couldn’t help but hear as bits of their conversation wafted in my direction.

     “Oh my god, look at that piece of man candy,” one of the girls said.  I scanned the poolside to see who they were talking about.

     “You mean that redhead? He is _damn_ fine!” was the response.  I felt a flush of embarrassed pride as I realized that they were talking about Jamie.  I burrowed deeper into my towel, not sure I wanted Jamie to see me at that precise moment.

     There were a few murmurs of appreciation from the young ladies, and one girl declared confidently, “I’d go down on that and then give him the ride of his life.”

     I nearly snorted as I tried to keep down my laughter.  Having already done both of those things multiple times, I had a strong suspicion she'd be hard pressed to give him ‘the ride of his life.’

     Finally, Jamie reached a place where he could survey most of the beach, including the location claimed by Seth and his friends.  Not finding me among them, he turned back toward the pool.

     I could tell when he noticed me from the smile that spread across his face.  Instead of meandering he headed straight for me, pulled the lounge chair next to me a little closer, and stretched his length out on the chair.

     I could hear disappointed exclamations from the trio but worked to ignore them.  After all, what did it matter what they thought?

     Jamie grabbed my hand, brought it up to his lips and kissed it, releasing it slowly as he ran his cheek down the back of my hand.

     “You shaved today!” I exclaimed at the unusual softness.

     “So did you,” he remarked, running a finger gently up my thigh at which I shivered.

     We sat in silence for a few minutes, taking in the view of breakers crashing on the coral barrier reef that protected the small outlying island, causing the waves that reached the sandy beach to gently lap at the shore.

     “You seem lost in thought,” Jamie said, looking up at me from the lounge chair, one arm behind his head as a pillow.  “I could swear you were going to start talking at least four times by now.” At my furrowed forehead he explained himself, “I ken because ye always take a half-breath when you have something to say.”

     He waited then as I thought through the jumble in my mind and finally came out with my question.

     “What if I'm your Frank?” I asked.

     “What do you mean?” he asked.  I lowered my lounge chair back so I could lie next to him, affording us more privacy in the conversation.

     “It’s possible that I’m _your_ Frank.  I’m stable.  I’m settled.  I’m mature.” As Jamie raised his eyebrows skeptically, I added honestly “--ish.”

     “I think ye have an overly high opinion of your maturity,” he joked.

     I could see he didn’t understand what I meant.  “No, let me explain,” I insisted, trying to keep my thoughts straight. “I started dating Frank because in comparison to the guys in my peer group, he was a catch.  Responsible, hardworking, established, mature.”

     “And so you are proposing…” Jamie started the sentence, waiting for me to finish it.

     “That _that’s_ the real reason you liked me.  That in comparison to other twenty-somethings I was relatively settled in life.  Stable. And that appealed to you.”

     Jamie scoffed and shook his head.  “Ye are _not_ my Frank,” he contradicted. “Certainly those qualities appealed to me.  But there’s more to us than that.  Consider, Claire.  Ye arna with me just because I’m younger.  It certainly wasn’t for my age that _you_ were attracted to _me_ , was it?”

     “No…” I mused in response. “In fact, it was probably a hindrance.”

     “Aye,” Jamie said.  His face softened.  “I admired you, yes, for your talents & intelligence.  But I also felt a strong attraction, so I didna look at ye and think ‘Claire’s too old for me.’”  Not meeting my eyes, he added, “The only time I even thought about it was when you tried to push me away, using me being Seth’s age as some sort of excuse, some sort of reason that I wasna yer equal.”

     He looked truly troubled now, forehead wrinkled, and I began to feel slightly nauseated.

     “I think we’ve been through this before, though,” I said.  “Your age was just an easy excuse.  In a way I was shaming myself for the way I was feeling--falling in love with you, wanting to be unfaithful to Frank--and I only meant to push you away. I couldn’t tell you how I _really_ felt.”

     Jamie took a slow, ragged breath.

     “Oh babe, I _hurt_ you…” I said with sudden recognition.

     He was looking at me then, an uncertain shadow in his eyes.

     “I’m sorry, Jamie,” I insisted. “That wasn’t my intent.” It seemed like he was drifting away from me, so I reached for his hand, wanting something to connect us.

     “You didna think you could trust me with the truth?” he asked.  

     “No, it wasn’t that I couldn't trust you,” I insisted.  “I couldn’t trust _myself_ to be vulnerable.  We were already too intimate.  Sharing how I truly felt would have just opened me up that much more.”

     He looked away.

     “Really, Jamie.  Do you _really_ think I could have said all that to you?...   _I’m here in the Marshall Islands because I’m questioning my relationship with my fiance and I’m kind of hoping to break up with him while we are apart but I’m trying to fool myself into thinking there’s something to save and so I’m going to push you away because although you are the first person I’ve ever connected with in this way, I feel a deep sense of guilt that I couldn’t make a relationship with a good guy work_?”

     Finally Jamie was smiling, shaking his head slightly as he looked down at our joined hands. “Aye,” he said.  “That would have been about right.”

     “But am I your Frank?” I asked.  “Are you going to outgrow me?  Will you find me too staid and—yes— _mature_ for you as time goes by?”

     Jamie sat up, leaned over, and kissed me firmly. “Hush, wee one.”

     I paused, stunned by his swiftness, a little mortified that he’d claimed me in the presence of the young women, and suddenly ashamed of myself.

     “I’m doing it again, aren’t I?” I asked.  He settled back on the chair but watched me through eyes half-closed to shield him from the sun.

     “Aye,” he said with a sigh.  “Ye need constant reassurance that I mean what I say, and that makes me wonder if you trust me.  Have I ever done or said anything to lead you to believe that I am regretful about marrying you? Or...” he paused briefly, “that I’m no’ satisfied with our life together?”

     “No...” I answered slowly, then repeated myself with more force.  “No, Jamie.  Not at all.   _You_ seem happy. But _I_ would regret marrying me,” I stated.  

     He laughed and stroked the back of my hand with his thumb.

     “ _Ri-pālle_ … Do you have some vision of me as a perfect man?” he asked.  His sudden insight silenced me. _Probably_ , I thought. I probably did see him as somehow better than I.

     “You’re so beautiful, Jamie,” I said slowly, watching the faint pink creep over his face in response. “I still find myself looking at you sometimes and marveling at you.  And you were such an innocent when we married.”

     “Innocent?” he scoffed briefly.  “Virginity at marriage doesn't qualify me to be canonized to sainthood,” he said. “Considering that we were engaged a mere three days, my resolve was truly untested.”

     I giggled, remembering a heady make-out session in the dark overlooking the beach, and another episode of first-time experiences in his classroom the afternoon before our wedding.

     “Ye canna idolize me, hen,” he said, a smile quirking his own lips and recognition filling his eyes. “Ye canna think me perfect simply because I haven’t had the opportunity to deeply disappoint you yet.”

     I watched the play of light through the palm trees on his face.  

     “You’re probably right,” I said.  “I’m asking too many questions.  And I didn’t choose you simply because of your age.”

     “No,” he agreed.  “You chose me because we were like-minded.  Because we enjoyed each other's company.”

     “Because you filled my heart in a way it had never been filled before,” I said quietly.

     “And do ye not see that you also fill mine?” he said quietly.

     I could see it then, in the way his eyes crinkled at the corner in affection.  He lifted his hand to my face, stroking my cheek.

     “So then, you didna leave him because he was _too_ mature, did you?” he asked.

     “No,” I agreed.  “I left because we just weren’t connecting, and I knew there had to be something more.”

     I meant it, and I could feel tears welling up in my eyes as I looked at him.

     Jamie swallowed hard, his face flushing. “God, I want to kiss ye.  And I ken I could, that it isna Arno,” he said.  “But there are some school girls over there that keep staring at us, and I don’t want to debauch their innocent minds by attacking ye here and now.”

     I laughed with an almost-snort.  “Innocent minds?  You have no idea,” I replied.

     “Come, love,” he said, pulling me to my feet. “Let’s join the others.  It’s been a lovely day, but I think we should catch the next boat home.”


	24. Stag Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This takes place on Saturday, December 30.  They’ve spent the day on Cocos island, a small resort off the southern coast of Guam.

      “So I have an awesome idea,” Seth announced when we’d emerged from our rooms, showered and slathered with aloe.  The look on his face worried me.  I narrowed my eyes at him.

    “It’s nothing, Claire.  It’s just you guys got married so fast I didn’t have a chance to give Jamie a bachelor party,” he explained.  “And I’m going to make that right tonight!”

    “I don’t need a stag night,” said Jamie, glancing over at me with a question in his eyes.

    “It won’t be anything crazy,” said Seth. “You’re married to my sister.  I just want to spend time with my new brother-in-law. We can shoot some pool, maybe go to a club, hang out with some of my friends. It’ll be fun.”

    I shrugged and smiled, nodding.  “Go,” I urged him.

    “Aye, then,” said Jamie to Seth. “But you know you’ll be dealing with Claire’s wrath if you lead me astray.”

    Seth met my eyes. “Wouldn’t want that! She may be tiny, but she  _scares_  me,” he chuckled.

    “Scares me as well at times,” Jamie teased, grinning.

    “Careful, mister,” I warned him, “if you desire to experience my affection ever again, you should be cautious about what you say.”

     Jamie laughed.

    “So  _Jamie_  gets a bachelor party,” I fussed with a grin.  “What do  _I_ do for the evening?”

    Joe and John exchanged glances.  “How about this?” said Joe, “Since Jamie  is having a bachelor party, we’ll take Claire out.”

    “We?” I asked.

    “John and I,” Joe answered, John affirming with a nod and a smile. “I think we should go dancing.”

    Jamie cocked his head at John.  “Ye willna be coming with  _me_?” John smiled, and his eyes darted in Joe’s direction, then back to Jamie. Jamie got a quirky grin on his face. “Oh,  _I_  see how it is…”

    Seth offered his closet to John and Joe so they could find nicer shirts to go with their khakis and jeans.  I could hear them laughing as Jamie and I retreated to our room to change as well.

    I stood in the center of the room, considering, as Jamie took off his casual tee shirt and located a nicer polo shirt.

    “Are you sure you’re fine with this?” he asked me just before diving into his shirt.

[Originally posted by loulys](https://tmblr.co/ZPFPrd2X97mps)

    “More than,” I responded, pulling a pair of jeans out of my dresser.  I’d left a few items of clothing from my teenage days at home when I went away to college in Boston. “We need to have confidence in each other, don’t we?  And it’s healthy to have a life apart from one another as well.”

    “I guess we dinna have many opportunities for this on Arno,” he smiled, heading into the bathroom and grabbing his tooth brush.

    I noted with pride, as I zipped the skin-tight jeans, that they fit exactly the same as they did when I was 17.  Reaching into the back of the closet, I found a slinky silver-spangled tank that I pulled on after removing my bra. Finally I grabbed a pair of ridiculously high-heeled sparkly sandals and slipped them on.

    I turned to see Jamie staring at me from the door of the bathroom, stunned. “Who are you, and what have you done with my wife?” he questioned, coming close to bury his nose in my neck and place a few kisses there as well.

    “Be good,” I whispered.  “Not too much to drink, okay?”

    “I might say the same to you, at least the being  _good_  part.  Are you sure Joe and John are both gay and no’ just pretending so they can steal ye away from me?” he asked with a grin, sneaking his hands to the back pockets of my jeans.

    “Even if they tried,” I responded, putting my arms around his waist and looking up at him, “No one’s going to be able to wrestle me out of your arms!”

[Originally posted by sometimesyouonlyneedagoodmovie](https://tmblr.co/ZUm8nc2QW-qoG)

    We left the house in two separate vehicles. Jamie smiled at me and shook his head, wide-eyed, before getting into the car with Seth.

    “We should get a few drinks when we get inside,” John suggested as I parked my car in the club’s parking lot.

    Joe inhaled in a hiss and frowned slightly. “Claire doesn’t drink… and I don’t tend to when I go out with her… But truly, there is no alcohol required to have fun with a couple of gay guys,” he finished with a grin at me.

    The club was dark, interrupted with the dizzying swirl of sparkling reflections from a mirror ball over the dance floor. Pulsating music made it impossible to carry on a conversation, so Joe pointed toward a tall round table next to the dance floor that appeared to be unoccupied.  John nodded at the bar, indicating that he’d get us drinks, as Joe and I waded through the crowd and claimed our spot, followed a few minutes later by John.

    “Virgin margaritas all around!” John shouted, handing us each our salt-crusted glasses.  After a few sips, my two suitors pulled me by the hands out to the dance floor.  The DJ was spinning a lot of recent music, but when anything from ten to fifteen years ago came up, from when I was a teenager, it triggered something in me. Memories of being with friends, driving in a rusty old Subaru hatchback on the dark and curvy back roads of Guam with the windows rolled down and the speakers blasting as we sang along… Fountains of Wayne, 50 Cent, Katy Perry, Lady Gaga…. When those songs came on, that was when I started singing at the top of my lungs, shaking my ass and seeing if my body remembered how to get low.  

    It was a hoot to dance with Joe and John. Their natural rhythm and the way they moved their bodies was damn sexy.  Knowing that they were in no way attracted to me made it feel completely appropriate to grind up on them, occasionally dancing in the middle of a delicious gay sandwich, all three of us laughing.

    When one particularly bawdy song finished up, something by Nelly, we headed back to the table.  It was then that a small crowd of college-aged guys and girls stepped onto the dance floor.  I saw Seth leading the way, accompanied by two petite girls of either Asian or Islander descent.  In the darkness it was hard to tell.  Standing a head taller than most of them was Jamie.  The group found themselves a spot on the dance floor across the club from us, and I edged behind Joe.

    True to his word, Jamie was a genuinely terrible dancer, doing some sort of strange bounce and biting his lower lip as he moved out-of-sync with the music.

[Originally posted by themusicsweetly](https://tmblr.co/Zpk6Pn23WQS6w)

    “I can’t watch this,” I said finally, turning my back to the dance floor and continuing to imagine how horribly Jamie was dancing from the amused expressions on Joe and John’s faces.

[Originally posted by contemplatingoutlander](https://tmblr.co/ZKVYMl2TBhfye)

    “Oh, sweet pea,” Joe commiserated.  “I hope that boy has much better rhythm in bed!”

    Finally I turned around, planning to join Jamie on the dance floor and perhaps see if some of his rhythmic skills in the aforementioned locale could help him achieve a level of dancing competence, but he had apparently fled the floor quickly.  I figured I would go look for him, meandering back toward the bar to get us our next round of drinks.  

    As I approached the bar, I saw a striking long-legged blonde in a skin-tight red dress leaning against the bar.  She was sidling up to someone there, and when the colored strobe lights finally landed on him, I instantly recognized the muscular frame and curly hair.  

    He wasn’t paying much attention to her, but she had laser focus on him.  Something about the way she was looking at him and how gorgeous she looked stabbed through me.  I was shorter, curvier, browner, frizzier.  I sidled up to the bar behind Jamie’s back, unwilling to make a scene or embarrass him, just in time to hear her start up a conversation with him.

    “Hey there, big guy… is your girlfriend here?” she asked.  Jamie didn’t answer.

    “God, you’re huge,” she said, grabbing his hand. “Look how big your hands are compared to mine!”  She put her hand against his, his fingers dwarfing hers in comparison. “Come dance with me,” she flirted, taking him more firmly by the hand and swaying her hips beguilingly as she tried to pull him toward the dance floor.  She didn’t appear to be one who was denied very often.

    “Lass, I’m married,” Jamie said finally, shaking his head. “I’m just no’ interested in dancing.”

    “It’s just one dance… if she’s not here, what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.”

    “That’s probably true,” Jamie responded.  “And I believe she trusts me.  But I dinna want to,” he said.

    “Come on,” she wheedled.  “A big Scotsman like yourself.  Surely you’re not afraid of me!” She batted her eyelashes.

    “I’m no’ afraid of you,” Jamie said.  Even though he sounded calm, I could tell he was getting irritated.

    “Then dance with me,” she whined.  “Or do you have to ask your wife’s permission to do everything?” She pouted at him, probably aware from years of selfies that pouting made her lips look plumper, more kissable.  She really  _was_  gorgeous, I thought.

    “You know, that’s a good idea!” Jamie exclaimed. “Claire,” he said, turning to me. I hadn’t realized he knew I was there. “Shall I dance wi’ this young lady or no?”

    “I don’t know, babe,” I responded, coming to stand next to him where I could better inspect the girl.   “She’s definitely beautiful.  She’s also flirting pretty hard-core… she’s already noted your size several times.  My guess is that she’s hypothesizing other portions of your anatomy are equally sizable and she’s hoping to get in your pants.”

    “Why Claire, I think you may be right.” Jamie put his arm around me possessively. “Might I introduce you to my wife?” he said, as politely as if I hadn’t barged into an attempted seduction.

    “Nice to meet you,” I said.  “And your name is?”

    She turned to me slowly, her face white with anger and embarrassment.  “ _Fuck_   _you_ ,” she hissed.

[Originally posted by caitbalfes](https://tmblr.co/Z-QjQf2SaFxtq)

    “That’s okay, hon,” I said, certain I had a vindictive glint in my eyes.  “I’ll let  _him_  do that.”

    She glared at us and strode away.

    “Want to get out of here?” Jamie breathed in my ear, wrapping his arm around my torso and pulling me in closer.  “You were sexy as hell dancing out there…”

    “You saw me?” I asked. He hadn’t appeared to even notice me when he took the floor with Seth and his friends.

    “Aye,” he said.  “The three of you were dancing when we came in, and ye didna notice me, but I certainly noticed you.  I ken Joe and John are both gay, but they were grinding up on you in a way that made me burn with lust and jealousy.”

    I looked over to the dance floor, where Joe and John were still dancing together, engaged in a half-shouted smiling conversation.

    “They’re both too hot for their own good,” I commented. Joe was the taller of the two, with chocolate brown skin, dark eyes, and close-shaved black curls. John was muscular but slighter, fine-featured with a lighter mocha complexion and straight black hair, cut short.

    I looked back at Jamie to see that he was smiling at the sight of them. “Claire, I dinna want to jinx it, but I think your best friend and mine…” his voice trailed off.

    “May have just gotten the best Christmas gift of their lives?” I replied. 

     Jamie smiled.

    “Come on,” I said, pulling him by the hand toward the dance floor. “We’ve never gone dancing together.  All you have to do is hold me and move with me.”

    “As long as you stay near me,” agreed Jamie. “If you’re next to me, no one is going to notice me at all.” He was looking down at my body, and even in the dim lighting of the club I could tell he was flushing.

    We found a space close to John and Joe, and I coached Jamie through a smooth two-step dance move that didn’t look as conspicuously awkward.  He kept his eyes on me, and when he wasn’t concerned about the world around us he seemed to relax into his body, moving instinctively in ways that made Joe raise his eyebrows and nod the next time he caught my eye.

    “I’m feeling less sorry and more jealous,” Joe yelled in my ear.  I grinned smugly and turned back to Jamie.

    “That’s quite a shirt you’ve got on there,” he shouted. “I’m looking forward to putting my hands under it later.”

    “Well, you back that ass up over here,” I flirted back.  “I’m looking forward to having my hands on that later as well.”

    Jamie chuckled.  “Are you sure you haven’t been drinking?”

    “Certain. No alcohol,” I responded, “But seeing you get hit on by another woman has me feeling strongly like I want to take you to bed and make you mine.”

    Jamie’s eyes widened and he grinned, pulling me close so he could talk in my ear.  “If that’s the case, I’m done here.  Shall we go? Let’s tell our dates we’re taking off.”

    After shouting our farewells to John and Joe and then Seth and his friends, we headed out to my car.  Joe and John had said they’d take a taxi back to their hotels, though from the way they’d been looking at each other I was a little skeptical if it would be “hotels” in the plural.

    When we got to Marine Drive, I flipped on my turn signal.

    “ _Ri-pālle_ , I dinna ken Guam very well,” said Jamie, “but aren’t you turning the wrong way?”

    “No,” I replied.  “I’m heading towards the Sheraton.  An ocean view suite, a Christmas present reserved courtesy of Joe and John. When you look back and remember your stag night, you can tell your mates it was the  _sexiest_  night of your life.”

 


	25. Honeymoon Sweet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If parts of this sound familiar, it's because a bit of it used to be tacked on to "Stag Night." There was more to be told, though, so this is the expanded version.

     The Sheraton was amazing, the lobby high-ceilinged and grand, with a chandelier in the entrance and checkerboard black and white marble flooring.  Even in our fancy club wear I felt underdressed, and particularly foolish when the valet took the keys to my mom’s rusty Honda with a slight wrinkle to his nose and curl to his lip.

     “John and Joe had my mom pack a bag for us,” I whispered to Jamie, cringing slightly as I brought the small backpack out of the car before the valet left us at the entrance.  “I’m kind of dreading looking in it to see what she thought we would want.”

     He grinned and shook his head, turning to open the entrance door for me.

     “They canna truly have paid for us to stay here,  _ Ri-pālle _ ,” he said then, gazing with wide eyes at the spacious lobby. I felt nearly as awestruck as he appeared.  I’d stayed in a few nice resorts through the years, but never anything as glamorous as this. Finally he shook off his awe and squared his shoulders, looking down at me with a sly smile.

     “Come along, woman,” he said, taking me firmly by the hand and leading me to the check-in desk.

     “Reservation for Fraser,” he said confidently to the suited concierge behind the desk, who, after tapping on his keyboard and asking twice how we spelled our last name, found the reservation.

     “A gift, it seems,” the clerk said.  “With an open tab for room service if desired.”

     Jamie narrowed his eyes and shook his head slightly—not so much that the suited gentleman noticed, but enough that I did.  I squeezed his hand. This was quite decadent enough without taking undue advantage of John and Joe’s generosity.

     The concierge signaled for a bellhop to come assist us, and after an awkward moment as the young man held out his hands before I surrendered the backpack, the two of us followed him from the lobby into a towering ten-story atrium. The hotel rooms opened out to balconies overlooking a geometric fountain surrounded by stately palm trees in pots.  I tried to minimize my astonishment, gripping Jamie’s hand and trying to direct his gaze toward the stunning surroundings as we entered the elevator and waited in awkward silence as it climbed to the seventh floor, until the bellhop had opened our door and Jamie had scrabbled through his wallet for a wrinkled five-dollar bill, after which we entered the room and closed the door.

     “So, this is what you would have preferred for our actual honeymoon?” Jamie asked, taking in the smooth white bed linens, the glossy furniture, the gentle glow of bedside lamps.  He ran his fingers through his hair, then stepped hesitantly into the center of the room and looked back at me, eyebrows raised.

     “It is pretty decadent,” I agreed.  “But _ our  _ wedding night and honeymoon were  _ much  _ more memorable.  Anyone could have their wedding night in a hotel…”

     “Aye,” Jamie agreed, moving over to the bed and untying his deck shoes, wiggling his toes gratefully once he had shoes and socks off. I kicked off my spangly heels, padding over to the sliding glass door that led out to a balcony.  I opened the door and went out, stunned for a moment by the lights of the island and the view of the infinity pool eight stories down, lit up for nighttime swimming. It was surreal, to say the least. Jamie didn’t follow me, so I went back into the room to find him still sitting on the bed.

     He was looking at me wistfully.  “I do love your family, truly,  _ Ri-pālle _ ,” he said.  “And this room is amazing… But somehow I canna wait until it is just you and I in our little apartment.”

     “With the geckos and mosquitos?” I asked teasingly, shutting the door behind me.

     “Them I could do wi’out,” he smiled, winking at me.

     “I know what you mean, though,” I said, walking up to him and stepping between his knees, resting my arms on his shoulders.  “Until now it's kind of been just the two of us.”

     “Wi’ a little Rupert and Angus thrown in,” Jamie added, linking his hands behind my back and smiling up at me as he pulled me toward him.

     “But not too much,” I mused, imagining our friends noisily tromping into our apartment.  

_      Our apartment. _  I felt a pang in my stomach and as I realized what I was feeling, pushed away from Jamie and exclaimed in surprise, “Babe… I think I’m homesick!”

     His look of discomfort softened, and I leaned forward to kiss him gently.

     “I am as well,  _ mo chridhe _ ,” he whispered, drawing me down onto his lap.  “Sit wi’ me for a bit, and I ken both of us will soon feel better.”

     He drew my head to his shoulder, tucking it under his chin, wrapping his arms thoroughly around me.  I breathed deeply and melted into him, slipping my shoulder under his arm, curling my body against his.  I found myself humming contentedly and closed my eyes with a sigh.

     “Dammit, Jamie,” I murmured. “I was yours from that very first day you held me in your arms.”

     In response, he chuckled and tightened his arms around me.  I felt the soft pressure of a kiss on my forehead.

     “You looked alluring tonight.” He spoke slowly, his deep voice rumbling under my ear.  “Dancing in your sparkly top and sandals,” he mused as his hand traced over the spaghetti straps of the tank and drifted down my back. “Wearing these jeans, tight as a second skin,” he added, the firm warmth of his palm moving lower until he stopped with it gripping the curve of my backside.

     I’d wanted him earlier, but the extravagance of the hotel had stunned me out of it.  Now I felt the glow begin again, warmth creeping from my abdomen outwards.

     “I’m taking these foolish wee things off you,” he said, nudging me off his knee and into a standing position in front of him again. He reached for the button of my jeans, his forehead wrinkling in concentration as he undid it, a slow smile creeping over his face as he looked up at me and gripped the zipper.

     There was something disconcerting about being undressed.  My heart rate increased and I flushed as I watched him pull the zipper downwards and then slip his hands inside my jeans to spread the tight waistband and push it down over my hips.

     He took his time drawing the jeans down to the floor, his hands tracing their way down my thighs.  “You did  _ indeed  _ shave today,” he said. “Your skin is as soft as... a cat’s fur.”

     “A cat?” I asked.  “Did you have a cat growing up?”

     “Aye, but we arna talking about  _ Bòidheach  _ right now,” Jamie said, returning to a sitting position after holding the jeans down as I stepped out of them.  He ran his hands back up my legs, and the gentle touch stirred me so thoroughly I closed my eyes in response.

     “Now these are even more foolish,” he murmured, his hands tracing over the sides of my lacy panties. “But I’ll leave them on you a wee bit longer.”

     “Will you?” I asked, feeling breathless.

     “This, now,” he mused, and I could feel his hands at my waist, slipping slowly under the tank top.  “The way you moved in it!  _ A Dhia _ , I felt as if every eye in the place was on ye.”

     I backed away from him playfully, raising my arms up as if still at the club, dance moves somewhere between club Claire and dancing-with-the-Marshallese-kiddos Claire. I turned around, facing away from him, still swiveling my hips.

     “Come here,” Jamie groaned.  “Before ye kill me…  _ Itōk, Ri-pālle _ .”

     He reached his hand out to me and once again swept me into his lap as I approached him.

     “I’m curious, Claire.  Do ye like it here?” Jamie asked as I rested in his arms.  

     “I love my family,” I said.  “But it’s so busy and chaotic.”

     “I agree,” he responded.  “It is so loud. So commercialized.  It seems as if it is all about money and what ye have and drive.  What you buy. What you accomplish.”

     “Arno is such a simple place,” I said.  “I’d forgotten the constant barrage of advertising and noise.  The distraction of my silly cell phone dinging all the time.”

     I could feel him nodding his head as he spoke gravely, “I havena seen the stars since I got here.  Havena just sat alone in the silence. Haven't quietly watched the sun rise on the beach. I haven't read.  And other than lighting the candles at midnight mass,” he confessed soberly, ”I havena prayed.”

     I sighed.  “I feel like we’ve lost something being here.  Because I have felt jealous, petty, bitter, possessive--about you, I mean.  I’ve seen all these gorgeous young girls, and unwittingly I've been calling myself ugly, old, frizzy...” At this, Jamie frowned and shook his head.  

     "Ye shouldna speak so to yerself,” he scolded.  “I would never say such things. To me, you are the most beautiful woman in the world.”  

     “You’re sweet,” I said.  “But here there is just too much to compare myself to.  Magazine covers in the grocery store, billboards, petite Asians and tanned- skinned Chamorrans.  I feel like I'm clinging to you just to try to feel valuable. This isn't working, and I’m so glad we will be going home soon.”

     “Do you imagine we will ever be able to return to civilization?” Jamie asked earnestly. “I'm serious.  Will we ever be able to tolerate the noise and chaos? The commercialism?”

     “Sadly,” I said, “I think we could.  I think if we move to the states or Scotland, we will easily forget simplicity.  But for now, babe, there are far better things for us to focus on.”

     “ _ Ayet _ ,” Jamie responded, with such enthusiasm that I sat up and looked at his face. “Such as to finally remove this top!” His smile was blinding, and the crinkle of affection at the corner of his eyes endearing. His arms around me tightened.

     I closed my eyes as his lips met mine. Warm, strong hands on my body claimed familiar territory, and I felt firm flesh under my own hands, his skin smooth over the gentle ripple of muscles and occasional jut of bone. I let out a little sigh.

     I could feel his lips pull back in a smile against mine, and then his warm breath and insistent lips on my neck and collar bone.

     “Will ye have me, then?” he asked, his hand hesitating just under the hem of my tank top.

     I pulled away from him for a second, meeting his eyes. “Seriously, Jamie…?”

     “I’m no’ confused,” he explained.  “I just want to hear it from your lips.”

     “I love you, babe,” I said, punctuating the phrase with kisses. “And yes, of course I want you.  Badly!”

     “Good,” he said with a satisfied smile. “I believe I'll be able to accommodate ye.”

     Sometime later the two of us were tousle-haired and sweaty in our gorgeous suite overlooking the moon-lit ocean. Jamie was stretched out on the bed looking satisfied and I felt flushed and a little stunned as well.

     I looked at Jamie, shaking my head. “That girl at the club wanted you.  And she wasn’t the only one.”

     “What are you talking about?” Jamie asked skeptically.

     “Seth’s friends were salivating all over you on Cocos Island. When I watch you walk around, you don’t know how many pairs of eyes are following you, how many girls stand up straighter, suck in their stomachs and stick out their chests when you walk by.”

     Jamie shook his head sheepishly as if he didn’t believe me at all.

     “When he visited, there was one thing that Frank said that did strike fear in my heart,” I said, taking a deep breath and continuing hesitantly.  “I don’t remember his exact words, but what he said was that if you were this young and this physical, that you would get bored of sex with me, or feel like I was too old for you.”

     “Oh, lass,” said Jamie empathetically. He reached out for my hand, pulling me into the bed to rest in his arms.

     “Was Frank right?” I asked quietly.  “How can I know you’ll always love me? That I’ll be enough for you?”

     Jamie looked at me for a moment, brows furrowed. Finally he spoke.  “Claire, what you are to me is more than sex. Which I  _ do _ love, don’t mistake me.  I love it now, and I’ll love it if you ever get lukkuun pregnant and bloated.  I’ll love it if you get soft and round like a good Majel mama and even if you get skinny—though, ye shouldna ever get  _ too _ skinny,” he commented, his hands straying down to my hips. I giggled and shook my head, but kept looking at him, waiting for him to continue.

     “I hope we make our kids groan and plug their ears with the noises we make when they’re teenagers,” Jamie grinned.  “And I hope I’m still taking you to bed when we’re old and gray in our flat in the retirement village.”

     By then I was laughing through tears, and Jamie handed me tissues from the dispenser on the bedside table, then took me in his arms again. “And I’ll be creeping down the hall in the carehome even when I’m half senile, climbing into your bed because in your arms I can remember.”

     “Are you serious?” I asked him.  “But that’s still just sex.”

     “That’s not all,” Jamie continued.  “When I lost my ma and Willie, and then my da, when I left Scotland and Murtagh and Jenny and Ian, I lost my family.  My home. My sense of belonging. And ye ken Dougal. He isna given to much affection.”

     “You’re right,” I responded, nodding.  “He’s not much of a hugger.”

     “I traveled through school, and the first taste of being loved again was John,” Jamie murmured.  “I couldna be what he wanted, but he still cared for me even after he knew that.”

     I snuggled closer to him.

     “And my students… they fill me.  Rupert and Angus, the numpties, they’ve been friends to me. But then you arrived.  And ye took care of me,  _ Ri-pālle _ .  You healed me, looked after me, fed me, enjoyed my company, hugged me.”

     I squeezed him and closed my eyes.

     “Ye felt comfortable, Claire, like family, even though I was also lusting after ye.   And then you wanted me too.  You wanted to save me from being sent back home.  But you wanted  _ me _ .  My company, my friendship, my body, my love. And when I met your parents, when your da called me ‘son,’ my heart felt like it was going to explode. I… I didna just marry you for your body, Claire. I married you for your company. I married you for your soul. I married you so you could always be my family.”

     I pulled him down to me for a kiss.

     “It doesna matter where we live, who we become.” Jamie said seriously, looking into my eyes. “Because Claire, you are my family.”

     He placed his hand on my breast, over my heart.   “And this right here?” He said. “This,  _ Ri-pālle _ , this is home.”


	26. Forgive Me, Father

     We had just finished our breakfast in the beautiful sun room off the lobby, a sumptuous brunch buffet of fresh fruit and decadent pastries, with a white-hatted chef making omelets to order. Heading back to our room and definitely toward a food coma, I was slow to realize my phone was ringing.

     I didn’t recognize the number, so I almost let it go to voicemail, But not only did I not recognize the number, I didn’t recognize the format, which made me think perhaps it was an international call.

     “Claire B..uh, Fraser,” I answered, shrugging my shoulders at Jamie’s questioning glance.

     “Claairrrre… Frrrraser,” the voice on the other end echoed, slow and distinct, the repeated r’s of my married name made more obvious by the heavy Scots accent,

     I didn’t recognize the voice either, rich and warm. I’d heard Jamie’s brother-in-law Ian speak before, but this voice sounded older.

     “Yes,” I responded. “That’s me. Can I help you?”

     “Ye said Fraser…” The voice repeated.

     “I’m assuming you’re trying to get in touch with Jamie,” I offered, ready to hand the caller off.

     “Aye. Dougal MacKenzie gave me this number as one to reach Jamie, but he didna mention that the lad had married…”

     “Do you just want to talk to Jamie?” I asked. Jamie had stepped toward me at the mention of his name and the confusion on my face. “He’s right here, so you can talk to him right now.”

     “I will,” the voice responded. “But no’ yet. Ye said your name was Claire? And ye are American, are ye not? But ye said Claire  _Fraser_ …”

     “That’s right,” I said again quite patiently, widening my eyes at Jamie, shrugging my shoulders and shaking my head slightly as he stepped toward me, reaching toward the phone.

     “So ye are married, then? Married to Jamie? Married… to my  _son_?”

     I stood there dumbly, my stomach sinking as if I had just swum over the edge of the drop off. I felt nauseated. I didn’t want to hand the phone to Jamie, but I truly had no idea what to say.

     I wanted to string together every foul word in my vocabulary. I wanted to throw my phone in the ocean. I wanted to yell at Brian and tell him how badly he had hurt his son. I wanted to just hang up the phone and nonchalantly say to Jamie “Wrong number…”. I wanted to protect the man I loved from further injury.

     I looked at him, wondering if he could handle it. Would this hurt him more deeply than he had already been hurt?

     I shakily dropped the hand that held the phone and pressed it against my leg to mute it.

     “Damn, Jamie,” I gasped. “It’s your dad.”

     His face went white under his tan at my statement, but he didn’t hesitate. He held out his hand and took the phone from me, and then turning his back slightly toward me, raised it to his ear.

     “Da?” he said, his voice shaky. And then I turned away, unwilling to watch as Jamie’s strong shoulders trembled under the weight of four years of loss and sadness.

     The first phrases that I could make out were Jamie asking, “Are ye well? Are ye safe? Where are ye right now?”

     I didn’t know whether to leave or not, but when I glanced back at Jamie, he reached out toward me, gesturing me back to him, then drew me across the lobby to a love seat, sitting down and putting his arm around me.

     “Are you sure you want me here?” I whispered, gesturing toward the call.

     “I need ye close to calm me,” he whispered back, hand over the receiver.

     I sat next to Jamie as the truth swirled in my mind. The voice on the phone was Brian Fraser–the man who had left his family when Jamie had been in trouble as a hurting teenager who had just lost his mother and younger brother. We’d talked about it briefly, but as open as Jamie was about other things, his father was a subject he rarely broached.

     Oh, God, don’t let this wound him more, I found myself pleading. He’s been feeling accepted by my family here.

     I could picture Jamie windsurfing with Seth, being embraced by my dad on Christmas eve, letting my mom cut his hair. Teasing Shelly, opening gifts sitting on the floor by the Christmas tree, smiling around the table at all of us over our turkey dinner. Squatting to inspect plants with my mom in her garden, listening to my dad explain the way to install sills for typhoon-proof plywood storm shutters.

      _You’ve got a family now, Jamie,_ I telegraphed to him, pressing myself toward him. _I’m right here. The Beachams have you._

    _But Claire, that’s not all he wants,_ logic responded. _His dad’s rejection is a huge trauma in his life._

     And so I sat and listened, trying to hear what his father was saying over the pounding of my heart in my ears.

     “New Zealand…” Jamie was saying. “New Zealand?”

     All I could hear was random snippets of words through the static of the long-distance call. Sorry….. Rancher…. Sheep … Sorry… Visit ye?

     “I dinna ken, Da. ‘Tis all rather sudden. I havena even spoke’ to ye in four years.” I couldn’t translate the expression on Jamie’s face–a stunned stoicism. He listened intently, occasionally shaking his head or urging his father to slow down or repeat himself. The only sign of emotion was that when he was listening rather than talking, he was pressing his fist to his mouth, as if trying to keep from tears.

     “Dinna make plans yet,” he interrupted at one point. “But I’ll consider it, and I’ll let ye ken.”

     Finally the voice on the other end stopped speaking as much, and I could hear the rising timbre of questions. At this, I could feel Jamie stiffen.

     “I’m truly no’ ready yet, Da,” he said. “I’m honestly a bit stunned here. Can I have yer number and call ye back? And your address, too,” he was saying. I reached into my bag and found a receipt and a ballpoint pen, and Jamie leaned over the arm of the chair to the end table to scratch out the series of numbers and the address.

     I heard his father’s final words before Jamie hung up the phone. “I’m sorry, son. And I love ye.”

     Jamie sat in silence once he put the phone down, his hand loosely holding it as it rested on his right leg. When I took the phone from him, he leaned forward with his face in his hands, digging his fingers into his hair. I’d had plenty of emotional moments since we married, but I wasn’t certain how to respond when Jamie was in the midst of one. Tentatively I reached out my hand and began to rub his back. When I did, Jamie drew in a deep breath and then sighed, his shoulders nearly shuddering .

     “What was that?” he said, his voice muffled by his hands. “Did that truly happen? Did my father just call me? I was in Majuro for more than two years and I’ve been on Arno since then, but my father calls me on your phone when I’m on Guam?”

     I could hear the lump in his throat, could hear the thin veil of masculine strength cracking under this strain.

     “Let’s go back to our room,” I suggested, feeling like he needed time to react to this in private. “Or if you want to be alone, you can go to the room yourself and I’ll come up later.”

     At this, Jamie took his face from his hands and looked at me in startlement. His eyes were rimmed with red, his face expressing all the pain he didn’t seem to be able to put in words. I saw his forehead clear and his chin square as he gritted his teeth with resolve, and he took my hand.

     “Aye,” he said, “let’s go up.”

     His hand gripped mine all the way up on the elevator to our floor, only releasing me long enough to use the key card to unlock the door, which he held open for me to enter and then came in behind me.

     I was gazing at him in concern when he turned from closing the door, but the expression on his face surprised me. He almost looked angry, which startled me enough. But then he strode the few steps toward me and bent to kiss me. His lips against mine were anything but gentle, his bulk pushing me backward until my body was stopped by the wall of the entryway. He bent and grasped my thighs, lifting me easily and pressing himself against me again, kissing my neck, releasing one leg to thrust a hand up my top and firmly grip a breast, his other hand finding its way under my skirt

     Despite his roughness he was passionate, and I felt my body responding to his fierceness, could feel his body responding as well as he pressed himself against me, his hips between my legs. I wanted to provide him comfort and I was thoroughly aroused, but a tiny voice in my conscience told me something was wrong with this.

     “Jamie, stop,” I said reluctantly, at a momentary pause in his ministrations. He had lowered me to the floor and swiftly pulled my shirt off over my head and was now in the middle of wrestling with the hook on my bra.

     “What?” he asked, stunned, finally having succeeded at his task.

     “Stop,” I said, pressing my arm against my breasts to hold my bra in place. “It’s not this you want. It’s not me you need right now.”

     “What?” he repeated, dropping his hands to my hips and looking down into my face. His lips were red from our contact, his pupils dilated, his face flushed.

     “You do need to feel something right now,” I explained hesitantly, looking away briefly before meeting his eyes again. I hated having him upset with me but pressed on. “You need to feel something, but it’s not this. It’s not sex you need.”

     “ _Ifrinn_ ,” he murmured, narrowing his eyes and stepping away from me. He reached down and picked up my shirt, shoving it into my hands. “Christ, Claire,” he swore, glaring at me. “Ye certainly ken how to destroy the mood.”

     Quickly refastening my bra, I followed him as he stalked to the bed. I stood a few feet away as he sat down and then glared at me.

     “How can ye deny me?” he said. “How many times have I made love to ye when you were sad or upset… when it wasna me ye truly wanted?”

     I walked to him, placing myself between his knees, wrapping my arms around him and forcing him to lay his head on my chest. His torso was stiff against me, but slowly relented as I stroked his neck and shoulders.

     “I love you,” I whispered. “But you need to tell me how you are feeling right now. You just talked to your father for the first time in four years. Your father, who deserted you when you needed him most, when you were hurting. It’s okay to be angry. It’s okay to be hurt, Jamie. But you need to feel it, not mask it with pleasure.”

     He let out a breath as if surrendering to the truth of it.

     “And because I love you, I’m not going to let you push those feelings away. Babe, you need to feel it.” I closed my eyes, stroking his shoulders and running my fingers through his curls, feeling the heat of his breath against my skin, a lump forming in my own throat as I imagined how he was feeling. I waited.

     He took one deep breath, and then he sobbed, his strong shoulders shaking, putting his arms around me and clinging to me as if I was a life preserver and he was a drowning man. He cried great wracking sobs, tears dripping onto my chest.

     And I cried too, imagining the pain of a father’s rejection, of losing both parents and well-loved baby brother over the course of a year.

     “Please, Claire,” he finally said, looking up at me with welling eyes and wiping the tears from my own cheeks with his thumb. “Please, lass.”

     I knew what he meant, and knowing he needed the comfort of my body I slipped out of my skirt and tenderly drew him to his feet, unbuttoning his shorts and taking him by the hand as I pulled back the covers. I made love to my hurting husband until the same familiar fire returned to him, but when he came, he cried again.

     We held each other afterwards. My mind was filled with questions, and I wanted him to talk, but I knew I couldn’t pressure it out of him. He was fragile, and the pain he was feeling was something of which I had no understanding.

     “He left us with nothing but the clothes on his back,” Jamie said. “He says he went up to the Highlands, to the clan lands of his ancestors. Hitchhiked, slept in the rough, wandered the moors. Got lost. Thought he’d lose his life a few times, he said.”

     I stroked his arm, then urged him to roll away from me so I could rub his back as he talked. I glanced at the clock, feeling the urgent approach of our noon check out, but couldn’t interrupt Jamie. He sighed and relaxed against me, rounding his shoulders and pressing himself back against me, briefly putting his hand over my own on his shoulder in appreciation.

     “He worked at a few ranches, taking on odd jobs. I guess he worked for a farrier for a time, shoeing horses. No way the man could have known he had a skilled horse breeder and trainer in his employ.”

     I leaned forward, touching my lips to the smooth expanse of Jamie’s back, then resting my cheek against his skin, moving closer to him until my body hugged the bend of his legs, his backside against my lap, the soft hair tickling my skin. I held him close as if I could will comfort into him, and I could hear a brief low chuckle from Jamie.

     “You’re so wee,” he said. “Generally I find myself spooning you instead, but I can see why you like it.” He breathed deeply, placing his arm over mine where I had draped it over his side. He interwove his fingers with mine, pulling them up to his mouth and placing a kiss on my knuckles.

     “So where was he calling from?” I finally got the courage to ask a question, feeling the return of Jamie’s normal good-humored cheerfulness.

     “From New Zealand,” Jamie said finally, a twinge of surprise in his voice. “A distant cousin had emigrated when he was a lad, and he has a sheep ranch there. My father couldna explain why he left us, not to my satisfaction, but that’s where he went and where he’s been since.”

     “And why call now?” I asked.

     “He says he went to midnight mass there,” Jamie said, his voice nearly in a whisper. “And when he lit the candles and said prayers for us–for ma, and Willie, and Jenny and myself, mine wouldna light. And when it finally did, a draft came from somewhere and blew it out.”

     I froze. “You’re kidding,” I said. “That’s rather mystical…”

     “And my da wasna the believer in the family. ‘Twas my ma.”

     “What did he think it meant?” I asked with a shiver. I could feel the hair rising on my arm, having had a few too many mystical experiences of my own lately.

     “That I was in danger–that perhaps I was dead.”

     “But he knew you were in the Marshall Islands? He knew to call Dougal?”

     “No, he called Jenny first. I dinna ken why she didn’t give him your number. But neither of them told him we had married. Guess they thought that was my news to share.”

     “Or mine, I guess,” I said, squirming against him.

     He chuckled again, then settled against me. It seemed that he didn’t have anything else to tell me.

     I squeezed my eyes shut, and then finally hugged him and kissed him between the shoulder blades. “I’m sorry, babe, but it’s 11:40. Check out is noon.”

     “Why did ye not say something before?” Jamie asked, nearly leaping out of the bed. He scrambled around finding his clothes and tossing mine to me. After shoving spangly tank and shiny heels into the backpack and retrieving the shampoo and conditioner from the shower, we took one last look around the room.

     Before I exited, Jamie once again pressed me up against the wall, bending to kiss me. “ _Jolok bod, Ri-palle_ ,” he said. “I shouldna have tried to mask my feelings by using ye.”

     “I do it too often,” I said in response. “But it can be a comfort when nothing else will suffice.”

     He held me tight against him, swayed back and forth with me, and then laughed. “I ken this wasn’t our honeymoon suite,” he said. “But I feel more married now than when we came in last night.”

     I smiled up at him, lifting my lips for one more kiss, saying simply, “I do, too.”


	27. Cave Men

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Actual chapter 22b/23. After Tarzan Falls, before Cocos Island, both John and Jamie have to use their raw masculine power.

     “So he truly just stayed hidden for twenty-eight years, even though he realized the war had ended?” Jamie looked back at us, swiping aside some bamboo leaves to clear the overgrown pathway for us.

     “The Japanese sense of honor during World War II was incredible,” Seth explained.  “I mean, you'd _have_ to be committed to be a kamikaze pilot and use yourself and your airplane as a bomb, right?”

     We nodded in stunned agreement, sipping from our water bottles and resting in the shade of the glossy green jungle plants beside the path.

     Today’s jaunt was to Yokoi’s cave, the re-creation of the underground hideout dug by a Japanese soldier after the end of World War II.  He had stayed hidden there in the Guam jungle, sneaking out to take food from neighboring farms and fishing in the nearby river, weaving his own clothing from plant fibers.  He was finally found in 1972, almost three _decades_ after the war had ended.

     “For those Japanese soldiers, dying for their country was more important than their own lives,” Joe said, shaking his head.  “That’s incredible devotion.  I mean, I’m a patriotic American, but still!”

     I offered, “I remember that if they were about to be captured, there were some officers who would fall on their swords rather than be captured--what was that called? _Harry Carrie?”_ I offered hesitantly.

     “Har- ** _A_** k ** _I_** r-i” Jamie corrected me.  I turned toward him, raising my eyebrows. Since my arrival out on Arno I’d been corrected by him plenty of times in private, but I wasn’t sure how it felt to be corrected by him in front of other people.  

     “You ken Japan occupied the Marshalls as well, _Ri-pālle,_ and there were Japanese officers in the Marshall Islands when the Allied powers took it back during World War II,” he lectured.  “I’ve lived there four years.  And I also  took Pacific History at the college of the Marshall Islands.  Ye ken I’m not a dimwit, don’t you?”

     Joe eyed the two of us, and I felt my cheeks flush at Jamie’s irritated response to me.  It wasn’t like I didn’t think he knew anything, but having spent a number of years growing up on Guam, I’d always felt like a bit of an expert on World War II in the Pacific, impressing stateside college classmates with my knowledge and horrifying them with descriptions of the group suicides of Japanese soldiers when the United States reclaimed Guam, lines of men standing at a cliff’s edge, pushing the next person off, the final officer taking his own life rather than be taken prisoner.

     “I really can’t imagine it,” John said, stepping between me and Jamie in a subtle attempt to dispel the tension.  “Either they believed that the Americans would be truly cruel to prisoners of war, or they were convinced that it would be a horrible shame to surrender or be captured.”

     Shelly was scrolling through something on her phone as she walked slowly ahead on the trail.  "Men had been indoctrinated with the notion that it was dishonorable to be captured,” she read, after which she stumbled on a root, caught her balance and then looked back with a sheepish grin.

     “Ye shouldna text & walk,” Jamie joked, just as Seth said, “Been walking long?”

     “Didja have a nice trip?” added Joe.

     John sighed with a wry smile as Shelly looked to him, eyebrows raised in resignation.  “I’m not in the habit of insulting young ladies,” he intoned, grinning when the three other guys made exasperated noises and Jamie scoffed, backhanding John’s bicep in irritation.

     “Tryin’ to make the rest of us look bad, are ye?” he teased.

     “I was saying,” Shelly said insistently, “That Yokoi felt it would be humiliating to go home.  In fact, the Japanese people coined a famous saying from his words on his arrival back in Japan: “It is with much embarrassment that I return.”

     “It is with much embarrassment that I return,” repeated Seth, shamefaced.

     “I don’t know about that,” Joe responded.  “Seems to me being able to avoid detection and capture for nearly thirty years is pretty darn incredible. What did he have to be ashamed of?”

     “Just goes to show you we can’t even comprehend the mind-set of the Japanese soldier,” Jamie concluded.

     We soon reached the re-creation of the original cave, a hole in the ground walled with bamboo.  We leaned over the opening, peering down into the darkness.  To the side, John inspected the primitive diagram of the cave painted on a sign and shuddered.  “It was only 9 feet by three feet,” he said. “I can’t imagine being trapped in a space that small.”

     I looked at the drawing, which depicted Yokoi seated in his cave, a small fire built at one end and a chimney/air hole leading up from it.

     “And this says he came out only at night to avoid detection,” Shelly commented, still reading from her phone.  “So he was stuck in that small space all day every day.”

     I squatted down, trying to see farther into the cave.

     “I just can’t imagine it,” I said.  “I’d get so lonely.”

     A man wearing a khaki uniform stepped toward us, a smile on his face.

     “It _was_ lonely, though Yokoi wasn’t the only Japanese soldier who went into hiding after the war,” he said.  “There were a group of ten originally, though they split up realizing that they’d be too easy to track and find if there were too many of them.  Yokoi had two friends who lived nearby, but after twenty years--still eight years before he was discovered--he went to their cave only to find them dead.”

     My stomach hurt at the thought.  Twenty years spent virtually alone, with eight years of interminable solitude left. I sighed and apparently inched closer to Jamie, only realizing what I’d done when I felt his arm around me and looked up to see him smiling down at me.  

     “Who found him, then?” asked John, stepping forward.

     “Two fishermen who were out on the Talofofo River,” the ranger answered. “They captured him, and though he begged them to kill him, they took him home, fed him some dinner, and then took him to the police.”

     “Did he stay on Guam long after that?” Shelly asked.

     “After discovery, he was only here two weeks.  He went back to Japan to a hero’s welcome.”

     “But he was embarrassed?” Seth asked, forehead wrinkled in confusion.  “Shelly read something that said he was _ashamed_.”

     “‘ _It is with much embarrassment, but I have returned?_ ’” the guide quoted with a smile. “Yeah.  I heard you guys talking.  I really don’t understand it any more than you do.”

     “That’s crazy,” Joe said, shaking his head as he looked once again into the bamboo-lined hole.

     “Thanks,” we chorused, as the guide wandered off to the next group to answer questions.

     “Wanna take the monorail?” Seth joked, pointing at the rickety little train mounted with plastic folding chairs.

     “It canna be more than half a kilometer to the trailhead,” Jamie laughed.  “Why anyone would need to ride there is beyond me.” 

    As I followed the others back down the trail, I took one last backward glance at the hole in the ground, no more than a darker spot camouflaged by the sunlight dappling the underbrush. The thought of that unending isolation was heart-wrenching.

     I had just sighed and shook my head when Jamie took my hand in his. I stopped us where we were, put my arms around him, and hid my face in his chest.  He wrapped his arms around me and didn’t let me go, not even when Joe yelled back at us, “Are you guys coming or not?”

 

     “In a canyon, in a cavern, excavaaaaa-ting for a mine,” I yodeled, the sound of my voice expanding in reverberating echoes. I knew Jamie was somewhere in the eerie darkness, and singing made me feel better, even though I had the sneaking suspicion that any second he might jump out at me.

     “Jamie?” I called out, wading gingerly into the water.  Seth, Shelly, and Joe were behind us and I knew I could wait for them, but I also wanted to catch up to Jamie.  We had been filling our days with multiple touristy experiences--always with other people--and I was beginning to feel disconnected.  We had even been up late several nights in a row, staying up talking or playing games until the wee hours, and we hadn't gotten to bed at the same time in at least three days.  It wasn't very easy to maintain an active sex life when your husband was asleep when you came to bed or gone on an early morning job when you woke up the next morning.

     “Dwelt a miner, forty-niiii-ner,” I sang, splashing a little deeper into the cool water of the wading pool of Pagat Cave.

     Suddenly a large hand came from behind me and after several furtive movements, succeeded in covering my mouth, lips quickly coming beside my ear to whisper, “ _Jab keroro_ , _Ri-palle_.”  He pulled me backward around a rock outcropping and then stopped, his hand still over my mouth.

     Unable to avoid the juvenile impulse, I stuck my tongue out, tasting the salt and dust on Jamie's hand, pushing the tip of my tongue between his fingers.  He squeaked in an unmanly fashion, and suddenly I felt a firm grip on my left breast.

     “Stop it,” I hissed, wrestling my mouth free from his strong hand.

     “Sorry, lass, I slipped,” he fibbed. “‘Twas just an accident.” The subtle caress of his hand stated quite the opposite.

      Light shone against the far wall, and when I peeked around the rocky corner I saw the bobbing approach of a bright blue trio of lights.

     “Claire? Jamie?” the voices called out through the darkness.

     “She was just singing a second ago.” Shelly’s voice carried clearly to us.

     I leaned my head back against Jamie’s chest as he continued with his cave explorations, feeling lightheaded and dying for more time alone, wishing there weren’t three people heading in our direction.

     “You’re going to drive me crazy,” I whispered, letting my breath out in a shudder.

     “That’s my plan precisely,” Jamie murmured, his lips tracing the curve of my neck and shoulder.

      I was feeling faint and just about to reach back and grab something solid to help steady myself when the lights came around the rock.  Jamie released me, moving forward into the center of the channel and only then turning on his flashlight.

     “Hallooooo,” said Seth once his headlamp trained on us.  “We really should be staying together, I think.”

     “It’s not like there are any real arms of the cave where we could get lost,” Shelly offered.

     “Yes, but Pagat Cave is filled with water.  That adds a hazard level of its own,” I added, splashing out of the shadows, only to see several apparent knowing smiles pass between the others.

     “Come on,” Jamie said, turning away from the entrance and lighting the way with his flashlight.  “I think it’s only a wee bit farther to the Lake room.”

     It was slightly challenging to maintain footing on the rocks in the thigh-deep water of the wading pool, but soon we had maneuvered through a narrow passageway that finally opened up into the arched ceiling of the indoor pool.  For a few minutes, we used our flashlights to illuminate the corners of the room.  Several half-melted candles were perched on the sloping rock shoulders of the room and the rock spires sticking up out of the water. 

     I turned off my flashlight and put it on a flattish rock that seemed secure and waded the rest of the way into the pool. It was refreshing and cool, a relief after the humid little hike we’d taken to get there.

     “Wait for me,” Shelly said, putting her flashlight down as well and lowering herself into the water.  

     Soon the rest of the flashlights and headlamps had been stowed, and with the last light turning off, the room plunged into darkness.

     “Marco,” said Shelly.

     We laughed, but I listened intently and swam towards Jamie when he said, “Polo,” in his deep voice. The darkness didn’t feel as oppressive with him next to me.  Still about five minutes was all most of us could handle in the pitch black.  Shelly was the first to cave, paddling back to the entrance rocks and turning her flashlight on, finding the other four of us paddling around in the water.

     It didn’t take long to start feeling completely chilled, even with my natural heater close by with his arms around my waist.  When another group of voices started filtering into the cavern, we decided our turn in the lake room was over and headed back to the entrance again.

     “It’s too bad John couldn’t come,” Joe said offhandedly as we clambered up the steep rocks out of the cave entryway.

     Jamie smiled in response. “He said he would have loved to join us, but he’s a wee bit claustrophobic, AND his nieces had claimed his afternoon for a tea party.”

     “He has my pity,” Shelly said.  “Those girls are adorable, but they were _exhausting_!”

      As we hiked back up from the caves, I fell into step with Joe. I was dying to be nosy but did my best to show restraint and let the conversation flow--if it was going to.  Of course, a few minutes of silent walking and Joe turned to me, shaking his head.

        
     “Go for it,” he said with an eye roll. “Ask me what you’ve been thinking about for the past five minutes… or five days.”

     “Do you like him?” I asked.  “You like, him, don’t you?” I almost skipped in my eagerness to keep up with him and hear his answer.

     “You are so _not_ subtle, honey,” Joe laughed. “I don’t really need you to match-make for me.”

     “He’s such a nice guy,” I campaigned.  “And good-looking, too,” I added.

     Joe shook his head and looked down at the trail, a smile playing around his lips. “Why do you care so much, babe?” he asked. I didn’t answer, so Joe continued, “It’s because he’s in love with your husband, isn’t it?”

     I stopped in my tracks.  “Not _still_.  Is that what you see?”

     “He is so focused on Jamie I can tell that there’s some history there.  Unrequited, as far as I can tell from Jamie’s vibe.  But I don’t think he’s over him.”

     I frowned and sighed.  “I could swear John seems excited to see you.  I think he likes you.  And you asked about him just a little bit ago, so I know he’s on your mind.”

     “Yeah,” said Joe.  “He’s a great guy.  And gorgeous, too.  But there’s something off.  Things are different with gay men.  Usually attraction is a little more straightforward.  We don’t play all those games that women and men have to.  And... I don’t understand, cause he’s not responding to me.”

     “Ohhhh,” I answered, thinking back to the conversation I’d had with John on the field ship. “I think he and Jamie have something in common…”

      This time it was Joe who stopped short.  “He’s a _virgin_?”

      “In a manner of speaking,” I answered quietly, looking around to make sure no one was in earshot.  “He came from a small island… fell in love with Jamie their freshman year… I just don’t think he has that much experience.”

      “Hm,” Joe grunted, a frown clouding his face.

      “He needs a caveman,” I said.

      Joe looked at me in amused confusion.  “What do you mean by that?”

      “He needs you to take the initiative.  Make it clear what you want… and that it’s _him_.”

      The frown was back again.  “I’m not going to _force_ myself on him.”

      “That’s not what I mean,” I said. “I can only speak for myself, but here are my thoughts, for what it’s worth.  Sometimes a woman wants a gentleman who woos her.  But sometimes she wants a caveman who drags her to the cave and exerts his strength.”  At the skepticism on Joe’s face, I explained further.  “Not force, not aggression.  Just openly expressed desire and bold action. Something that makes it clear what his intentions are.”

      “And you think that it’s time for me to bring out my inner caveman?” John asked.

      I shrugged, wincing slightly.  “I don’t know, hon.  It could be absolutely terrible advice.  You know my track record with relationships.”

     Joe shook his head in amusement, looking ahead toward Jamie who was leading the pack, a good head taller than my siblings.  

      “Worth a shot,” he concluded.

 

      “Want to watch ‘ _Elf’_ with us, Claire?” Shelly called from the couch.  Joe had made his farewells, so it was just my mom, dad, and Seth who were lounging in the living room with snacks, waiting for the DVD to start.

      “In a minute,” I answered, heading into the kitchen.  Mom had left out the Christmas cookies, along with a tub of multi-flavored popcorn.  I was scrounging in the refrigerator for veggies and dip when two hands suddenly planted themselves firmly on my ass.  

     I shot upright and squeaked, checking the archway into the living room to make sure no one had seen.

     Jamie’s arms went around my waist, pulling me firmly back toward him.

     “Christ, I'm starving for ye, Claire,” he whispered in a husky groan. He let me go long enough to swipe my hair away from my neck so he could nip my ear.  

      Then he whirled me around with his hands on my hips, took the plate from me and set it down on the counter.  “We havena gone this long wi’out being together since we married,” Jamie insisted.  “Well, save for the field ship. But not when we were in the same place.  I _must_ have ye.  Come wi’ me.   _Now_.”

      It was an order, not a request.  Jamie's eyes were narrowed, his gaze intently on me.

And my body was on high alert, my arms peppered with goosebumps, shivers going up my spine. I felt suddenly weak in the knees.

      I stuck my head into the living room.  “I love this movie, guys, but we’ve been hiking and going and doing so much, I really think I should get a good night’s sleep.”

      “Sure, whatever,” said Seth, his eyes not leaving the screen.

      “Night, kiddo,” said my dad.

      My mom looked at me with a knowing smile but waved me away.

      I turned to see Jamie’s intense gaze on me. His words were sparse but his intent completely clear as he ordered me up the stairs.  

      “Come, woman.”

 


End file.
